The Knights of the Order of the Lion's Redemption
by Lady of Stormness Mountain
Summary: The White Witch's Stone Knife became a legendary artifact of Narnia. The Knights of the Order of the Lion's Redemption have the sacred duty to protect it. The forgotten tale of how the Stone Knife came to Aslan's Table.
1. Prologue: Origins

Author's note: Many thanks to Petraverd, to whom this lovely plot bunny belongs.

Disclaimer: Narnia is the property of the estate of C.S. Lewis. No copyright infringement is intended.

Prologue: Origins

In an ancient world where oppression was life and cruelty knew no bounds, a simple craftsman toiled over a bench in his smoke filled workshop. Between his rough, calloused hands shone the black, glossy gleam of obsidian. Born in fire, the glassy stone's destiny was as tempestuous as its birth. The old man took the shining chunk of rock, and under his careful hand, the stone slowly formed into a keen blade.

On the day of the Full Moon Festival an aged Emperor took a package from the folds of his ornate, crimson robe. As his court prepared to feast, he presented the gift to his eldest daughter. She sat at her father's right hand in the place of honor, for she would inherit the Empire of Charn. The princess pulled back the silken wrapping to reveal the old craftsman's masterpiece—a knife unparalleled among royal weapons.

The grip and hilt were wrought of shining silver, and for a pommel the knife had a deep, sparkling blue sapphire. Upon the black blade that shone in the flickering torchlight was etched a setting sun—the royal emblem of the House of Charn. A hungry gleam filled the princess's steel eyes as she beheld her father's gift.

Almost a year passed, and the princess hungered for power. Her father was old, and what was he to her but a hindrance?

'Twas the hand of his favored daughter and the keen-edged gift he had given her by which the last Emperor of Mighty Charn fell. Little did it matter to her, for now etched in the annals of the temples of Charn were the words:

_**Jadis, the Queen of the World**_**.**

Her younger sister was as hungry for power as she. For years the civil war raged across the Empire, millions of men dying to preserve the rule of a Queen who cared nothing for them.

Finally, victory of the rebels was nigh at hand. Queen Jadis stood alone on the palace terrace, her knife of stone in her right hand and a cool smile resting on her lips.

"Victory!" shouted her upstart sister.

"Yes, Victory, but not yours!" With a smirk the Last Queen of Charn raised her gleaming knife high and uttered the Word that tore the lives of every living being on the face of her world from their helpless bodies.

Thus, Jadis gained a crown, but lost the world.

Thousands of slumbering years passed, and finally the Spell was broken. Broken by a foolish boy ensnared by a simple poem.

Jadis arose yet again to conquer a new world and bend it to her will. The knife never left her bejeweled side as she rampaged through the streets of London. It remained her stalwart companion as she fled the song of the Lion and as she stole into the Silent Garden and ate the fruit that was not for her to take.

Nine hundred years passed, and Jadis remained strong as she built an army of evil, the glistening, fire-born stone ever in her upraised hand. 'Twas this knife by which the beautiful Swanwhite, last of Narnia's Queens of the first royal family fell.

As snow and ice enshrouded the unhappy land, Jadis, Queen of Winter, watched from Cair Paravel's parapet.

"Victory!" Her cry rang across Narnia as she savored the word's sweet taste.

A hundred long years of ice and death passed, and the long forgotten prophecy was reawakened. Whispers stole across the bleak forests that Aslan was on the move. The foretold Four came to Narnia's aid, and as her winter melted around her she vowed,

"No! I will not lose my crown to _Him_!"

She still had one last chance: fulfill the Laws of the Deep Magic and she could not be stopped. A wicked smile played on her lips as she left Aslan's camp with more than she could have hoped for. Her day of vengeance was at hand.

By night the Great Lion gave himself willingly into her death-ridden hands. She savored that moment, taunting the Lion by the irony that He would die by fulfilling His own law.

As the Stone Knife was stained by the Great Lion's blood, it ceased to be a weapon of conquest, and became a holy relic that bore witness to the Lion's infinite love.

The Witch again saw victory within her grasp upon the plains of Beruna. The enemy ranks turned to stone as they fled, and greed shone once again in her heartless eyes as she stalked her prey—the eldest of the Four.

Without warning her icy power left her as Edmund's sword put a swift end to her wand. He paid dearly for the wrath that he incurred.

Turning again to the task at hand, she threw the broken, bloodied wand aside and drew the ancient Knife. As she prepared to drive the well-honed blade home into the eldest boy's heart, she cried "Victory!"

"_**Yes, Victory, but not yours!"**_ The Lion roared the all too familiar words as his jaws closed around her throat. The Stone Knife was thrown from her grasp to lie in the sweet Narnian grass among the white headed daisies.

'Twas there that the Ancient Blade's journey truly began.

* * *

Author's Note: There you have it. I chose to use obsidian as the stone knife's composition because, while it is technically glass, it is still classified as an igneous rock. According to Wikipedia, a blade of obsidian can be sharpened to near atomic thinness, and is very smooth, unlike steel, when scrutinized under a microscope. It is still used in some surgical scalpels today.

Anyway, this story will take me a long time to complete, and the next chapter may take a while because I still have to outline the story and organize my research notes.

Reviews are always welcome! It won't hurt, I promise. Please?


	2. Chapter the first: Discoveries

Author's note: Many thanks to my marvelous reviewers: Narniachick, Rose and Thorn, Eavis, and Bartholo. Your encouragement is greatly appreciated.

Without further ado, here is the first chapter. Happy reading!

Chapter the first: Discoveries

_6 Greenroof 1004_

The haunting beauty of faun flutes and the rhythmic beat of satyr drums filled the cool night air of the Beruna Plain. Around a massive bonfire a myriad creatures danced. Roasted meats, fruit pastries, and sumptuous foods lined tables set up a short distance away. Two young men, boys but for the wise gleam in their eyes and crowns of authority gracing their heads, stood with goblets of ruby colored wine in hand watching a golden-haired lass twirl in the circle of dancers around the fire. A raven haired young lady also watched her sister dance as she saw to the comfort of the party guests. The celebration was as wild and free as Narnia itself, for it was the fourth anniversary of the Battle of Beruna and defeat of the White Witch.

Late into the night the youngest king, dark-haired Edmund, relinquished his wine goblet to his brother and walked from the boisterous party. He strolled slowly, deeply engrossed in his own thoughts. Presently he sat upon one of the boulders that littered the grassy field, and looked up to the shining stars as they danced their ancient, airy dance above.

As Edmund shifted his boot-clad feet, he heard the soft chime of metal in the grass. Leaning over, he saw a black gleam amongst the daises, and, picking it up, realized what he had inadvertently found.

The Just king held the knife in his trembling hands as his leaden feet found their way back to the celebration. The revelers had quieted, for the old centaur Thunderclap was about to begin the storytelling. Peter saw his brother's odd behavior.

"Ed, what's wrong?"

"Look what I found, Pete." Edmund's voice was thick with emotion and his eyes full of unshed tears as he held out the knife to his brother.

"It's the Witch's knife, Peter. The one she used to kill Aslan when he took my place." Edmund's voice wavered. Peter took the knife and embraced his shaken brother.

"It's alright, brother," whispered Peter, his chin resting on top of Edmund's head.

"It's not alright, Pete. I still don't know how," Edmund mumbled into Peter's shoulder.

"How what?"

"How He could have so much love for _me _that he would die for me. I was a traitor. I betrayed Him…and you."

"That's just it, Ed. You _were_ a traitor. You are no longer. You are not the same person, for He redeemed you."

Edmund broke the embrace and reclaimed the knife. Tears no longer puddled his dark eyes, and a hint of a smile graced his face.

"I suppose it is just who He is," Edmund said. "If He would care enough to die in a traitor's stead, He would do anything for His people. This knife must be kept in honor, so that all may see it and know of His boundless love."

"Indeed, brother. You speak well," Peter quietly agreed.

That evening, before the celebration ended, all were informed of Edmund's discovery. All agreed—it would be kept in the Hall of Ages at Cair Paravel. The Hall of Ages was a massive art gallery that chronicled the History of Narnia with paintings and artifacts. Among those paintings gracing the walls were those of King Frank I and Queen Helen beside the Tree of Protection, King Gale fighting the Dragon of the Lone Islands, beside which hung Gale's sword itself, and even a portrait of fair Queen Swanwhite.

Thus it was that in the fourth year of the Golden Age, the Stone Knife was placed in the Hall of Ages. It rested in a carved mahogany box lined with royal blue velvet which sat upon a marble pillar in front of the painting of the Stone Table. Carved into the pillar were the words:

"_May this Knife of Stone forever bear witness to the infinite love of our Creator."_

* * *

_18 Redleaf 1004_

"Edmund, Peter, hurry up! The Calormene ambassador's ship is docking!" The young queen tugged her brothers towards the Great Hall's balcony.

"Alright, Lu, we're coming. Don't pull so!" Peter cried indignantly, rubbing the offended hand. These boisterous three joined their dark haired sister on the balcony in time to see the proud Calormene galleon, _The Prize of Tashbaan, _sail into Cair Paravel's harbor. A party of colorfully robed Calormene dignitaries and their attendants disembarked from the ship.

A little while later, Ambassador Mayur and his group entered the Great Hall and approached the Four Thrones.

"Good morn, Ambassador Mayur. I trust your trip was pleasant," King Peter began.

"Indeed it was, O High King," the Ambassador replied, bowing. "The weather was most pleasant. Have not the poets said 'storms are curses upon both soul and sail, but fine weather refreshes the spirit'?"

"I'm sure they have, Ambassador. A true saying indeed," replied King Edmund, making sure not to deem the saying wise.

"Perhaps our guests would like to refresh themselves before touring the castle. We may begin our business tomorrow," said Queen Susan.

"Thank you, O gracious Queen. Both your hospitality and beauty know no bounds. Just as the poets have said, 'A woman of beauty, grace, and gentle spirit is a treasure of inestimable value.'"

Susan blushed and inclined her head in acknowledgement of the compliment, Lucy held back a giggle, Edmund looked rather ill, and Peter turned the most abominable shade of purple. After regaining her composure, Lucy beckoned for a jaunty talking squirrel to show the Calormenes to their rooms.

Once in the privacy of their sitting room, Lucy began to howl with laughter.

"Oh, Susan, did you see Peter's face? It turned as purple as a plum dryad! Oh, and Edmund," Lucy gasped between giggles, "you looked positively_green_!"

"I'm glad we amuse you so," Edmund said wryly. "I was sick of all his nonsensical maxim rubbish."

"I didn't like the way he spoke of Su as some trinket to be owned. Treasure indeed. I'll tell him what he can do with his treasure!"

"Peter, don't grouse so. I thought his compliment was rather nice," Susan chided.

"Oh, come on all of you, or lunch will get cold," Lucy called, finally able to contain her giggles.

After a filling lunch of pavenders, hot biscuits, fresh salad, and apples, the four young rulers made their way to the Calormenes' chambers to conduct the promised tour.

The tour party wound through the castle, with each of the four pointing out something along the way. Now in the gardens, now in a tower, but never anywhere that could pose a security threat. The Calormenes were not allies, after all.

As they walked through the Hall of Ages, one Calormene nobleman, the Tarkaan Achan, saw the Stone Knife. He knew the knife was sacred to the barbarians, but when Achan wanted something, Achan got it.

OoOoOoO

A week later, in the dead of night before the Calormene day of departure, Tarkaan Achan crept through the marble hallways. Reaching the Hall of Ages, he approached the pillar on which the Stone Knife rested. Moonlight streamed through the narrow windows on the opposite wall and all was silent save for the low cry of an owl far below in the garden. Achan reached out and took the Knife by the hilt, but it was not for him to take.

The sapphire pommel began to glow with blue, ethereal fire, and the silver handle glowed red hot. The glowing sapphire emitted streams of blue lightning that enveloped Achan in electric agony as the fiery hilt burned his palm.

The entire castle was startled awake by his tortured shrieks of pain, until his screams ceased as suddenly as they began and all was quiet again.

The centaur guard nearest the hall found him first—lying on the ground motionless with the Stone Knife beside him on the marble floor, inches from his burned hand. The guard, Trahaearn, bellowed for the other guard to bring a healer and several more guards. The four monarchs came running, dressed in their bathrobes. The kings both held drawn swords in their hands. They arrived to see a dryad healer checking the unconscious man.

"What happened here?" demanded King Peter.

"No one knows, your majesty," replied the honeysuckle dryad Meila. "The Calormene is alive, but barely. He has severe burns all over his body."

"It appears that he attempted to steal the Stone Knife, my liege," reported Trahaearn.

"Take him to the infirmary. Do what you can for him, but if he dies it will be on his own head, for it seems that Aslan has punished him for his wrongdoing," said Peter gravely. "We cannot interfere with His judgment. Tell us if he awakens, Miela."

With a nod, the dryad motioned for Trahaearn to pick Achan up and bring him. Ambassador Mayur arrived in time to see his assistant carried away.

"What, by the Tisroc himself (may he live forever), happened to Tarkaan Achan?"

"It seems, Ambassador, that your assistant tried to steal a sacred relic from the Hall of Ages," Edmund said icily.

"That is of no consequence, barbarian! If he dies, it is war!"

"We shall see, Ambassador. We shall see."

Taken aback by the fierce gleam in the young kings' eyes, Ambassador Mayur stormed out of the Hall, and Susan reached out a delicate hand to replace the knife on its pillar.

"We should get back to bed," she said quietly.

OoOoOoOoO

The next morning, the four were summoned to the infirmary by Miela.

"He is stable now, and conscious. He should survive with rest," Miela informed them.

Peter went over to Achan's bed and inquired what had happened. In a cracked, dry voice Achan answered him.

"I admired the stone knife, O my host, and desired it for my own. Know, O king, that as I grasped the hilt, by some foul magic the pommel glowed blue and threw out a fierce storm of lightning that enveloped me and the hilt was as hot as though it had been in the blacksmith's flames. Wise was the poet who said 'a thief who steals from a kind host will reap the lash of the whip and leave empty handed.'"

"We shall not punish you, Achan," said Edmund. "You have already been given punishment enough."

OoOoOoO

The Ambassador and company departed on schedule, taking Achan with them. The monarchs were not sorry to see them go.

"Good riddance!" said Peter as they stood on the balcony watching the Calormene ship sail away.

"Well, we did learn one thing, Pete," said Edmund.

"And what was that?"

"The Stone Knife cannot be touched by Calormenes."

"Yes, but it could be that it is thieves that cannot touch it," interjected Lucy.

"Perhaps, since it represents Aslan's love, only one who loves Aslan can touch it," proposed Susan.

"I suppose we will never know, but that sounds the most logical, Su," replied Peter. "We must ensure that nothing ever happens to it."

"Pete, it electrocutes people who try to do anything bad to it," deadpanned Edmund.

"Well, what if someone tried to destroy it without actually touching it, or took it in the wooden box."

"He has a point, Ed," agreed Susan.

"Alright. We set a guard," proposed Edmund.

"No, we need something more," replied Peter.

"I know!"

"What, Lu?"

"We form a new order of knights to protect it, so that even after we are gone the knife will always be protected."

Everyone agreed.

"What should the order be called?" asked Peter. After a moment of thought, Edmund quietly spoke up.

"The Order of the Lion's Redemption."

"That's perfect, Ed," Peter said solemnly, and the girls nodded in accord.

OoOoOoO

A long month of searching passed, the Pevensies making lists of the requests of warriors to join the Order. Only the most skilled, dedicated, and trustworthy knights were chosen.

Finally, the chosen knights were re-knighted as knights of the Most Noble Order of the Lion's Redemption. The knights of the new Order wore blue tabards embroidered with a gold rampant Lion.

The first knights to begin the fledgling order were

Sir Ruarc of the Western Wood, a centaur,

Sir Síahgdha of the Southern Pass, a satyr,

Sir Gerwulf of Glasswater, a timber wolf,

Sir Aidan of Lake Westerness, a human,

Sir Gurtheyrn of Mt. Pire, a gryphon,

Sir Adino the fearless, a leopard,

Sir Ghislain the faithful, a human,

Knightess Gerlinde the fierce, a dryad,

Sir Arsenios of Lantern Waste, a centaur,

Sir Garaile of the Northern Plains, a dwarf,

Knightess Morvarid of Cair Paravel, a human,

Sir Adelmar of Dancing Lawn, a faun.

Thus it was that in the fourth year of the Golden Age the Most Noble Order of the Lion's Redemption was formed by High King Peter, Queen Susan, King Edmund, and Queen Lucy that the Stone Knife would always be protected; an order of knighthood that lasted a millennium.

* * *

Author's Note: So, how did you like it? I would really like to know. Does anyone want to know what the names mean? I wasn't planning to reveal them, but if anyone is interested I might.

Please leave a review on your way out, I would appreciate it.

The next chapter will be coming along within the next few days. Till then, dear readers, I bid thee farewell.


	3. Chapter the second: Sole Survivor

Author's note: Thanks again to all my reviewers. I decided to get writing when I was inspired by, of all things, the main title music from Star Trek: First Contact. If you want to, find it and listen to it. It is truly a moving piece (the first half) and the most beautiful of any Star Trek music I have heard. I will include a list of all the name meanings from both this chapter and the previous one at the end. Be sure to pay attention to the date given at the beginning. Without further ado, here is chapter two. Happy reading!

Disclaimer: See prologue

Chapter the second: Sole Survivor

_The Four disappeared from Narnia after a prosperous reign, and had brought peace to Narnia that lasted almost a thousand years. The Narnians searched for their Kings and Queens for many years, but in the end they had to move on. The following rulers of Narnia were never crowned as kings or queens, and they never sat in the thrones. They were the line of the Lords Protector, holders of Narnia's crown until such time as Aslan returned their beloved Kings and Queens. The Order of the Lion's Redemption indeed lived on, the knights protecting the Stone Knife before their country, for such was their vow. _

_A thousand years after the defeat of the White Witch, again the horizon darkened with the black clouds of war. A new threat loomed on Narnia's western border. Once a race of seamen, the Telmarine scourge drove through the Western Wild into Narnia, destroying everything in its path. Finally, after two years of hard fought and costly battles, the Telmarines besieged the golden towers of Cair Paravel itself._

_**

* * *

**_

_**28 Snowbud 2000**_

"Archers, fire!" The swift hiss of arrows from the Narnian longbows filled the air, air acrid with the smell of the smoke from the fires that heated boiling cauldrons of water to be poured onto attackers climbing the walls. The parapet shook with the impact of trebuchet stones, and the tension hanging in the air was almost palpable. Commanders shouted orders above the din of battle, and all manner of creatures scrambled to obey.

"Fire at will!"

"Water! Bring the cauldrons!"

"Hurry! They're battering the gate!"

"It's too late, they've broken through! Narnians to battle!" General Gintaras, a centaur, bellowed the order to charge. Among the throng of soldiers were the last of the Knights of the Lion's Redemption. One by one they fell, their skill no match for the sheer numbers of the Telmarines, until only two remained: Sir Adrastos, a middle aged centaur and the leader of the Order, and Sir Drystan, a far younger human who was the newest knight of the Order. Sir Adrastos fought his way to Sir Drystan and over the clash of metal, he gave Sir Drystan the last orders he could.

"Drystan, you must take the Knife and flee. The Telmarines must not get their hands on it. It is far too powerful and sacred a relic."

"No! I will not leave you!"

"You must," the centaur's eyes flashed. "Or have you forgotten the vow you took when you became a Knight of the Lion's Redemption?"

"But I cannot abandon you. I cannot abandon Narnia!"

"Go!" ordered Adrastos, shoving Drystan out of the fighting.

Sir Drystan obeyed his mentor's last command, running out of the courtyard. He looked back to his friend and mentor, casting an agonized glance back. Adrastos nodded and held his sword in brief salute before bringing it down on a Telmarine helmet. Drystan could feel his heart tear in two as he heard the battle cry of the only friend he had left over the clash of steel. He somehow knew that his friend had died that moment, while he ran from battle. Reaching the Hall of Ages, Drystan took the box that the Stone Knife was kept in, closed it and threw it in his satchel. He sheathed his sword and ran to the castle's lowest basement where he knew a tunnel ran out into the woods. He pulled the trap door up and entered the dank tunnel, tears clouding his eyes as his heart pulled him two ways at once- the way of duty and the way of honor.

Sir Drystan reached the woods that surrounded the once-free castle, and looked back to take the last look that Narnian eyes would see of Cair Paravel for three hundred years. He lifted his eyes in time to see the cold Telmarine flag hoisted above Cair Paravel's battlements where a gold rampant lion once flew.

That day all of Narnia wept.

Sir Drystan knew that he was now the only surviving Knight of the Order of the Lion's Redemption. He resigned himself to his last duty- to keep the Stone Knife protected in keeping with the legacy of a thousand years. Tears no longer dampened his cheeks, for he knew his old friend was in Aslan's Country and that he now had the honor and duty to keep Narnia's memory alive until she was freed once more.

**

* * *

**

Sir Drystan indeed upheld the memory of Narnia and kept the mandate of his knightly order for as long as he lived. He joined the hidden ranks of Narnians, mostly old men, children, and women who were not able to fight. Several years later, he found that his sweetheart Mairwen escaped Cair Paravel before it fell and the two were married that same year. Sir Drystan and Lady Mairwen had a son, Arsenios, and a daughter, Gaynor, before they were called to Aslan's country. Arsenios followed in his father's footsteps, becoming a warrior and knight of the Lion's Redemption.

Sir Arsenios married Lady Annora, the daughter of one of the very few families who escaped the Telmarines' juggernaut of carnage. Their son, Galen, became the last knight of the Order of the Lion's Redemption.

Sir Arsenios was hunting of an afternoon as he had all his life to provide food for his family when he ran into a Telmarine patrol. They spotted him, and he let fly all the arrows he had against them, for he would not run. He fought valiantly, but in the end a Telmarine bolt found its mark. He tried to make it back to his little forest home, but as he crawled agonizingly through the thick forest he collapsed beside a tall oak tree. Friends found him and carried him home, where his wife Annora cared for him as best she could. Galen sat by his father's bedside, for he knew that nothing could truly help his father's serious wound.

"Galen, bring me the wooden box that always sits over the mantle, the old satchel under the bed, and my sword," Arsenios told his son. Galen complied, and placed the objects beside his father.

"Galen, you are young, but no longer a boy, I want you to kneel beside my bed."

Galen did not ask why, but honored his father's last requests. Arsenios drew his sword from its scabbard and lightly touched the flat to his son's shoulders.

"Rise, my son, for you are now a Knight of the Lion's Redemption. In the satchel you will find your grandfather's old tabard. Bear it well." Taking the wooden box in his hands, Arsenios continued, "You must promise me that you will protect the Stone Knife inside this box with your life, just as I and your grandfather have, and just as every Knight of the Order of the Lion's Redemption have for a thousand years."

"I promise, father," said Galen solemnly, his blue eyes big and full of salty tears.

"What's more, promise me that you will take the Knife to a place where it will be safe forever, and the Telmarines can never take it. Promise me."

"Yes, father. I promise."

"Good man. Thank you. Fare thee well," spoke Sir Arsenios the last words he would ever speak.

Galen and Annora mourned their loss, but knew that Arsenios now rested between the Lion's paws.

Galen was a knight of his word. In the years to come, he would fulfill his promise.

**

* * *

**

Author's note: Thanks for reading. It was a bit hard to type because my brother's kitten kept sitting on the keyboard typing threes. ;)

Here are the name meanings from this chapter:

Gintaras: amber (Lithuanian)

Drystan: tumult (welsh)

Adrastos: not inclined to run away (Greek)

Mairwen: fair, blessed (welsh)

Arsenios: honor (ancient Greek)

Gaynor: fair, smooth (medieval form of Guinevere, the wife of King Arthur)

Annora: honor (English (rare))

Galen: calm (Greek (modern form of Galenos))

Name meanings from the previous chapter:

Mayur: peacock (Sanskrit)

Achan: trouble (Hebrew)

Miela: honey-sweet (Esperanto)

Trahaearn: very much like iron (welsh)

Ruarc: squall, rainstorm (Irish)

Síahgdha: admirable, hawk-like (Gaelic)

Gerwulf: wolf spear (Germanic)

Aidan: fire (anglicanized Scottish)

Gurtheyrn: supreme king (ancient Celtic)

Adino: ornament (Biblical, one of David's mighty men)

Ghislain: pledge (Germanic)

Gerlinde: soft spear (Germanic)

Arsenios: honor (Greek)

Garaile: victor (Basque)

Morvarid: pearl (Persian)

Adelmar: noble, famous (Germanic)

Leave a review on the way out, please.


	4. Chapter the third: Remnants' Council

Author's note: First off, my apologies for the untimeliness of this chapter. I shall endeavor to make the next chapter quicker. Thanks again to all my reviewers. Your input is greatly appreciated, and gets me back on the track of writing.

Disclaimer: Narnia belongs to the estate of C.S. Lewis. No copyright infringement is intended. The month name Lenisgale belongs to Elecktrum, who has graciously allowed me to borrow it.

Chapter the third: Remnants' Council

_25 Lenisgale 2075_

The dark starry sky was faintly tinged with the rose and gold that heralded the coming dawn. The Shuddering Wood was quiet, and the cool air that wafted on the gentle breeze brought with it the fresh aroma of evergreen trees. Through the twilight of the predawn hour walked the Last Knight of the Lion's Redemption. He held a longbow in his left hand and his father's sword was at his side. Sir Galen was a sturdy youth of no more than eighteen years, with sandy hair and calloused hands accustomed to work. Dressed in his green shirt and brown leather jerkin he moved silently and almost invisibly through the forest with the stealth gained from a lifetime of hiding. He knew well that even deep in the Shuddering Wood there was no pretense of safety, for Telmarine soldiers often ventured within their hated woods to raid and murder what remaining Narnians they could.

This particular morning differed from the others, for it marked the third anniversary of Galen's knighting and his father's death. Galen remembered well the promise he had made his father before he died, and the time to fulfill it was nigh at hand. He had trained relentlessly with his teacher and mentor Sir Achaicus, the son of his grandfather's mentor Sir Adrastos, that he might be ready when the time came. Indeed Galen was ready, for his father and Sir Achaicus had taught him well.

This morning Galen was making his way to the Remnants' Council, a gathering of the hidden Narnians' leaders that he had called. They met at the Dancing Lawn at daybreak, too deep in the Eastern Woods for the Telmarines to find. Galen kept to the cover of the woods on his way, daring not to risk a mission of such importance on a shortcut through open fields.

The sky grew lighter as the sun began to wake from its slumber beyond the horizon, and the sky rid itself of Night's heavy mantle to don the glittering raiment of brilliant gilded Morning. The forest began to awake, and song soon filled the evergreen boughs as the myriad of birds greeted a new day. A squirrel called a cherry "Good morn to thee" as Galen passed; a greeting Galen was quick to return.

Just as the sun fully rose in all his golden glory, Galen reached the Dancing Lawn where the leaders gathered. Galen approached the council and swept a respectful bow.

"Sir Galen of the Lion's Redemption, here stands the Council. For what purpose have we gathered?" asked Sir Gereon, a great centaur with chestnut flanks speckled with the grey of age.

"Good sirs and ladies all, you know well my duty as a knight of the Lion's Redemption. 'Tis that self-same duty that brings me before you this morn," Galen began. "Thou knowest best of all, my dear aunt," he nodded at Lady Gaynor, "of the promise I made to my late father."

"Indeed I do, nephew. Thou promised to take the Stone Knife to a place beyond all reach of the Telmarines' grasp. Is this the reason we have gathered?" Golden-haired Gaynor inquired, her silver circlet shining in the dappled light that filtered through the leafy canopy.

"Yes, it is. The forest grows dangerous, for the Telmarines' new king, Caspian III, wishes to show the power of his iron-clad fist that all will cower at his hateful name. Every day brings with it the possibility of raids, and while I would sell my life dearly before I suffered any Telmarine to take the Knife, I fear 'twould never be enough. I must find such place of safety of which my father spoke. For this, wise ones, I make my petition. Advise me of where I can find such a place, and I shall fulfill my given word."

"You speak well, young knight," replied Sir Drenoveep of the talking Mice. "We shall endeavor to oblidge you."

"Sir Galen," began Goldenfeather, a gryphon and leader of the birds of prey. "No place in Narnia can vouchsafe the Stone Knife the protection of which you speak."

"Indeed," continued Sir Gereon. "The stars weep for Narnia. Lord Kindynos of Danger and Lady Abebaiotita of Uncertainty hover ever over Narnia's once lovely land."

"You must travel beyond Narnia's southern border into Archenland. She has ever been Narnia's friend and ally. Perhaps King Lorn will grant you a place of security," advised Sir Andreios, a leopard and representative of the Great Cats. The others nodded their agreement.

"Yet Archenland cannot give such security as the Knife requires," interjected Limnus the faun.

"Then in Archenland he must find transportation to Terebinthia or the Lone Islands. The Telmarines fear the sea and will not venture near enough to be a threat. There, perhaps, Aslan will show thee the place though so desirest," said Lady Gaynor. The other council members murmured their assent, and turned their gaze to Galen.

"Thank you, wisest of Narnia. I shall do as you advise," said Galen, bowing and preparing to depart the Lawn. A large black horse with deep brown eyes and a white star between them stepped forward and stopped him.

"You will need a mount to expedite your journey. I shall accompany you," the horse declared, for a talking horse does not mind being ridden when there is a great need and a worthy cause. Galen was surprised, but the determined expression in the horse's eyes was one that brooked no argument.

"'Tis settled, then," said Sir Gereon. "Sir Galen of the Lion's Redemption shall fulfill the promise and duty of his knighthood, and Sir Aiolos shall assist him in the fulfillment of the same. Aslan's blessings be upon you both. Remnants' Council is adjourned."

As the Dancing Lawn slowly emptied, Galen approached Sir Aiolos.

"You really needn't deign to be ridden, good Sir," he began, but Aiolos cut him off.

"I shall deign to be ridden whenever I see fit, young one. Sir Achaicus speaks highly of you, and I have no doubt of your competence, yet you shall need all the aid you can acquire to accomplish your goal. I follow Aslan's calling, and I feel He wishes me to give you such aid as I can." The stallion's eyes softened and he seemed to smile at the sandy-haired young man before him. Galen's blue eyes met the horse's brown ones.

"Then I thank you, Sir Aiolos," Galen replied, inclining his head. "I shall be grateful for your assistance. I fear I still have much to learn.

* * *

Sir Galen stood outside his home, shifting anxiously on his feet. The wind blew cold as it whistled through the dark tree tops to rustle the folds of Galen's dark cloak, and the mournful hoot of an owl reached Galen's ears. Aiolos stood near him, saddled and bridled in old leather tack. To reach the Southern Pass they had to travel through open country, and a human riding an unbridled horse would evoke too much suspicion. Galen wore his grandfather's blue tabard beneath his tunic, and in his satchel, bundled thickly in a clean shirt, was the mahogany box containing the stone knife.

Lady Annora came out of the low doorway, a bag filled with several days worth of food in her hands. She gave it to Galen and embraced him tightly.

"Fare thee well, my dear Galen. May Aslan protect thee."

"Fare thee well, mother. May Aslan's blessings be upon thee," Galen returned. He pulled out of his mother's embrace and gathered his cloak around himself. He mounted Aiolos, and with one last wave they cantered into the waning light of dusk, the adventure of a lifetime to begin.

* * *

Author's note: I'd love to know what you thought. Please leave a review on your way out. Till next time, dear readers, farewell.

A note to my anonymous reviewers:

Heidi: I'm glad you're enjoying this, thanks for reviewing. :)

Terbidoodles: I find the names at the site behindthename dot com. It's really helpfull. I'm glad you like them. It may be a while before the Knife finds its way to Ramandu's Island, but I'm sure we're in for an interesting time on the way. Thanks for the review. :)

Name meanings

Achaicus- biblical, a Corinthian who aided Paul

Gereon- old man (Greek)

Kindynos- danger (Greek)

Abebaiotita- uncertainty (Greek)

Andreios- brave (Greek)

Aiolos- quick moving, nimble (Greek)


	5. Chapter the fourth: Midnight Journeys

Author's note: Once again, dear readers, I must offer my sincere apologies. Three weeks is much too long between updates. I had a summer reading assignment that wanted finishing. I will try to get the next chapter quicker, but I shall not make any promises.

Thanks to all my reviewers! You keep me on track.

Chapter the fourth: Midnight Journeys

As the moon rose to spread her silver-white glow over the slumbering lands and murmuring seas and the winking stars sparkled in the dark expanse of sky, the dull thud of hooves echoed through the tall, somber pine trees of the Shuddering Wood. High in the needle adorned boughs of a particularly tall pane tree, a great horned owl paused his mournful call to turn his big, golden eyes to the forest floor as a coal black horse cantered beneath his tree, leaving an eddy of swirling leaves in his wake. The momentary excitement having passed, the tawny feathered creature returned to his lonely vigil.

Onward the fleet-hoofed horse traveled into the wee hours of the morning, the dark tree trunks falling swiftly behind.

As the moon began to set behind the Western Mountains, the black-cloaked rider began to droop until his head rested on the horse's raven colored mane.

"Galen, wake up!" the horse whispered raspily.

"Wake up, boy!" he ordered louder. Finding his attempts unsuccessful, the stallion slowed to a stop, breathing heavily from his lengthy journeying. Turning his head to look at the rather sorry-looking bundle on his back, Aiolos let out a snort.

"Humans," he thought as he reared up, dumping the sleeping Galen on the forest floor in an undignified heap.

"Ow! Aiolos! What happened? What's happening?"

"You fell asleep, that's what happened, boy. Now we must run again, and you must not fall asleep, for you risk falling off if you do," Aiolos cautioned.

"My apologies, my friend. I shall try to do better," Galen promised, at once contrite.

"'Tis alright, my young companion. Dawn will come soon, and with Morning's fair light we shall rest. Now, mount up," Aiolos replied, tossing his head. Galen did as Aiolos said and remounted. The pair of travelers began their journey again, and Galen kept to his word and did not slumber.

An hour passed, and the moon dipped below the horizon as the eastern sky flamed with greens, blues, and reds. Little wispy clouds near the sea became tinged with gold and crimson, and lovely Aravir, Star of Beauty, Lady of Morning, shone ever-bright between them. Still the stalwart two plodded on through the forest, until, some time later, the sun rose in golden glory to wash the world in light and begin a new day.

Aiolos slowed to a stop, his withers speckled with the sweat of relentless travel.

"Now we may rest, Galen. Here, where the trees are thicker, we can bivouac in relative security.

"Where are we?"

"We are within three bowshots of the southern border of the Shuddering Wood. Look there, on the rise," Aiolos answered. Galen complied, and when he had topped the rise he saw the great pine forest tapering out to a smooth, green plain upon which a silver river shimmered as it snaked its way eastward. In the distance Galen saw the Southern Mountains rising in snow capped majesty against the azure sky.

"By the Lion, I knew not how far our journey would end up taking us," Galen remarked solemnly, his eyes set on the far off slopes of fork peaked Mt. Pire.

"Indeed, my friend, we have yet a long way to travel. We must rest now, during the daylight, and wait until darkness falls to continue. What lies ahead, Galen, holds considerable danger. We must be careful. Now will you be so kind as to remove this cumbersome saddle?"

Galen did so, and Aiolos lay down in the cluster of trees which he had selected. Galen curled up in his cloak on the needle strewn floor and sleep overtook him instantly.

* * *

The sun was setting behind the dark Western Mountains when Galen awoke. Aiolos was nowhere to be seen, and Galen began to fear that something had gone wrong. He found, however, upon leaving the thicket that Aiolos was nearby grazing on a convenient patch of clover and grass growing in a shaft of sunlight.

"Ah, good eventide, Galen. You are a deep sleeper indeed. As soon as the sun sets we shall embark, but now eat," commanded Aiolos, falling back to his clover. Galen opened his satchel and pulled out a round, muslin wrapped cake made of almond flour. Galen smiled as he bit into the cake, for his mother had made the cake with a little honey, just as Galen liked. He followed the cake with a shiny golden apple, than held out a second apple to Aiolos. After both quenched their thirst from a nearby stream, the sun had completely set behind the Western Mountains. The once green plain before them was grey in the twilight of the crescent moon's pale beams and the noble Leopard twinkled above them. Galen saddled and bridled Aiolos, ready to begin the journey again. Galen pulled the hood of his cloak over his head as Aiolos directed, for a mysterious rider was less likely to be trifled with. Aiolos trotted to the forest's edge and paused.

"Now, Galen, we must be doubly careful. It is all open country until the mountains begin, so we shall have little cover for the next few days. If we encounter anyone you must speak as little as possible. Tell them nothing that would jeopardize our mission. I shall not be able to aide you in such interactions, for I must appear to be a dumb Telmarine horse," Aiolos instructed, enunciating the last sentence with a hint of indignation.

The necessary precautions taken, Aiolos began his smooth canter, the steady rhythm of hoof beats audible on the wide plain. Galen had never before ventured outside the forest, and felt open and vulnerable on the wide expanse of prairie. He could see his breath puff in a misty cloud before him as they journeyed ever monotonously onward. The dark mountains ahead bobbed with the rise and fall of Aiolos' movement, and Galen ached for the hour when they would reach the protection and cover of their forested slopes.

A couple of hours later they reached the banks of the Archen River, a tributary of the Great River. The water churned and gurgled, swift with the spring snowmelt and silver in the moonlight.

Aiolos plunged into the surging current that was still as cold as a winter wind. The icy water soaked through Galen's leggings and the hem of his cloak, instantly chilling his through until shivers played deep inside his chest. Aiolos swam steadily, seemingly unaffected by the cold water, until his hooves rested on gravel and solid bank.

After a brief respite the two continued their trek across the plains. Soon they came to a pale dirt road on which they began to travel, for it lead directly to the Southern Pass and was the only was they could travel. A small village rose out of the grey horizon, and Aiolos increased his speed to a fleet gallop. The little thatched roofs and brightly lit windows soon passed and faded again into the horizon. Aiolos returned to his cantering.

Many such villages heard hoof beats echo through their deserted street, and many a townsperson peered from his window to puzzle over the passing of the lone, dark rider.

When the sliver of moon rose to its zenith above the starlit plains, Aiolos and Galen halted and turned off the road to a little babbling stream that splashed down from the mountains. There they took a brief rest to eat and be refreshed before continuing down the dusty road.

"How much further have we to travel, Aiolos?" Galen inquired.

"A good day's journey, perhaps more, before we reach the southern mountains. Tonight we will find some place to bivouac during the day, but we must be careful. There are many small villages and farms, but they are of no import. It is the town of Southton and its garrison of soldiers that pose the greatest threat. It lies directly between us and the Southern Pass, and we must travel through it to reach Archenland."

"I suppose we should move on, then, in case we are followed."

"I doubt if that is the case, but it is good to be cautious. Come."

Galen mounted up yet again and the pair continued onward.

The moon dropped, and finally winked out of sight behind the western horizon. The eastern sky began to pale as Aiolos and Galen were passing a small farmhouse. Both horse and rider were exhausted, and Aiolos had slowed his gait to a wearied walk. There was a well near the farmhouse, and it beckoned to Galen as he passed.

"Aiolos, are there any streams or sources of water near here?" Galen inquired of his companion.

"None that I am aware of, Galen. Perhaps we should stop for a moment and drink from this well here. The house is dark, but we must be quick as well as quiet," Aiolos replied, his thirst overruling his caution.

They stopped near the well, and Galen dismounted to draw a bucket of cool water from the depths of the well. Aiolos drank deeply from the large wooden bucket, and when the horse's thirst was gone Galen quenched his own. Just as Galen put the bucket down and made to remount Aiolos, they heard a distinct creak as the sturdy door of the house swung open. The light of a newly kindled fire glowed from the now open door, and grey smoke puffed out of the chimney into the predawn air. The light dimmed as a young woman stepped out of the doorway. She wore an old brown dress with worn sleeves and a creamy woolen shawl draped her shoulders. Her dark curls hung past her shoulders, and she held a crossbow in her hands, which she quickly leveled at the trespassers.

Galen and Aiolos looked up in surprise at the sound of the opening door, and Galen lowered his foot back to the firm ground. His cloak, though, caught on the saddle and the girl could see the straight broadsword at his side—unusual for a Telmarine to carry, for they preferred the slightly curved saber.

"What quarrel have you with us—er—me, lady?" Galen asked as Aiolos turned to face the girl, his eyes bright with the weight of captive words.

"I have no quarrel with you save suspicion, for you act as a thief pursued in the dead of night, yet all you have taken is water, which I would have freely given had you asked," the girl replied, puzzlement and curiosity coloring her steel-girded voice.

"Why, then, do you detain me?"

"I would know who you are, and why you have trespassed on my grandfather's land."

"My horse and I were tired from a night's long journey, and the cool water of your well was indeed a much needed boon for two weary travelers. I apologize for causing you trouble, lady. I did not wish to disturb anyone," Galen replied.

"You seem sincere in that regard, yet you still evade my questions. No matter, though. It is I who seem to have caused the more trouble," she said, lowering the crossbow. "I shall detain you no longer, but I offer the hospitality of mine and my grandfather's house if you would find comfort in a hot meal and a soft bed. Perhaps then you will satisfy my curiosity."

"I thank you for your kind offer, but I must decline," Galen replied, turning to mount.

"I see not why, good sir. There is no other place for the next fifteen miles," she said, now thoughtful. "Perhaps you have a mission of secrecy to complete—one that does not have the blessing of Telmar," she said in lower tones, her dark eyes hardening to look fully into his with a dangerous glint. Gale blanched, but said nothing.

"Perhaps," said she, stepping closer and lowering her voice to a tentative whisper, "a mission of import to…Old Narnia?"

Galen looked as though struck, but regained his composure quickly. He subconsciously curled his hand around the hilt of his sword.

"What know you of such things?"

"I am correct, aren't I? I can see it in your eyes. My grandfather has told me stories of Narnia all my life, though I never thought to see a living Narnian in my lifetime. It is apparent now—your hair, your clothes, your sword. Even the way you stand tells me you are no Telmarine. Trust me, for I speak the truth. You can be assured of safety in my home," the girl spoke earnestly, and to Galen she seemed quite sincere.

Galen looked to Aiolos, and at length he inclined his head in acquiescence.

"It would seem, my good companion, that we have little choice but to accept the lady's hospitality and trust Aslan to keep us between His paws," Aiolos remarked, dropping all pretense. The girl started at the sound of the stallion's deep voice.

"It is true! Grandfather told me of the talking animals, but I never quite believed him," she breathed, eyes aglow with wonder and excitement.

"Come, friends," she said, beckoning. "I am Saliha."

After Galen and Aiolos had similarly introduced themselves, Saliha led them to a barn across from the house and showed Aiolos to a roomy stall with fresh hay and oats in the feeding trough. Galen unburdened Aiolos of his tack and bridle, then bid him good rest.

"Have care, Galen," Aiolos cautioned lowly, his dark brown eyes meeting Galen's with a determined gaze. Galen inclined his head in agreement.

Saliha and Galen left the barn and walked to the house. She opened the door and led Galen into warm firelight.

"Please make yourself comfortable. I shall have breakfast ready shortly," Saliha said, laying her shawl on a nearby chair and bustling about the room. Galen sat in a wooden chair at the table, and soon the delicious aroma of bacon filled the farmhouse and biscuits baked golden-brown in a fire-warmed pan. Galen's stomach growled hungrily, fighting with his heavy eyelids for dominance.

Dawn came now, and the once dark sky was flooded with the brightness of a new day. Saliha shook Galen awake, for his drooping eyelids had been victorious, and placed a wooden plate full with crisp bacon and fluffy biscuits, and a glass of cool milk brought up from the cellar before him. A dish of yellow butter and a jar of good strawberry jam sat on the table within his reach. Galen's mouth began to water at the sight.

"By the Lion, Lady, such bounty! I thank you for your kindness. You have put heart and soul back into a weary, discouraged traveler."

Saliha smiled, and patted Galen's back in an almost motherly way as she softly said, "Eat heartily, then, good sir. I shall return in a moment with grandfather."

She placed two more laden plates on the roughly hewn table and ascended the creaky wooden stairs at the end of the room. Galen happily tucked into his meal, and presently Saliha came down the stairs followed by a stout, sturdy little man. His coarse black hair was streaked with grey, and he wore an old leathern tunic over a cream colored shirt and black breeches.

"Who is this stranger, granddaughter, whom thou hast let into our house unchallenged to eat of our food and perhaps steal what little we have?" The old man could be heard saying crankily as he puffed down the stairs.

"Grandfather!" Saliha reproached. "How couldst thou be so rude?"

At this he merely grunted and sat down to his own breakfast.

As for Galen, he put his fork down upon his now empty plate and addressed Saliha's grandfather.

"Your granddaughter has been most kind, Sir. She has shown hospitality to me, a weary traveler who wishes nothing more than to complete his journey. I am most grateful, for I would not have had shelter, much less warmth and comfort, were it not for her."

"Besides, grandfather, I thought thou wouldst approve," Saliha interjected. "Galen and his mount, Aiolos, are Narnian. Thou hast told me so much of Old Narnia, and of thy sorrow at its demise to the hands of those whose self same blood flows, at least in part, through my veins. I knew thou wouldst not turn them away," Saliha spoke earnestly. Her grandfather started with her revealing of Galen's origins and nodded as she completed her brief, yet compelling speech.

"Thou didst well, Saliha. I welcome thee into my home, my fellow Narnian," he said, and the bright glisten of tears unshed shone from his dark eyes as he continued. "Long have I waited, and long have I suffered here among the Telmarines. It is indeed a blessing to see another Narnian after so many years."

Galen now saw that the old man was truly a black dwarf—one of the few who had pretended to be men in the midst of the Telmarines.

"When thou hast rested, friend, I would hear more of thee and thy mission, but now rest."

Saliha stood, her own breakfast finished, and after picking up a pitcher of water, led Galen up the stairs to a narrow hallway lit by a window at the far end. Four doors lined the walls, two on each side. Saliha opened the door to the last room on the left.

"Here is your room, Galen. 'Tis small, but comfortable. Sleep well."

Galen nodded his thanks and she smiled back as she closed the door after placing the pitcher of water on a small table. Galen looked around the room. It was small, but cozy. The wooden bed had on it a light blue coverlet covered in tiny white flowers, and the curtains fluttering at the window were a fresh, clean white. On the little table was the ceramic pitcher Saliha had left and a small basin to match sitting next to it. A little mirror hung above it, and a blue towel hung on a metal ring beside the mirror.

Galen poured some water in the basin and splashed some on his dirty face. After drying it off, he removed his dusty boots, leggings, tunic, and tabard. He changed into the clean shirt in his satchel, then sank into the soft bed where deep sleep found him at last.

* * *

Author's note: There! The longest chapter I've ever written. Please review on your way out. I would really appreciate it. :)

Chapter Name Meanings:

Saliha: virtuous (Arabic)


	6. Chapter the fifth: Harbor

Author's note: Please accept my sincerest apologies, dear readers. I wish it had not taken so very long to update, but school decided to throw everything it had at me at once. I hope you enjoy this next chapter, and I would very much like to hear what you think.

* * *

Chapter the Fifth: Harbor

Galen awoke to late afternoon sunlight streaming in his window. The breeze rustling the curtains was cool, and carried the sweet, heady smell of hay and roses mingled. A mockingbird sang its cheery song from the top of the barn roof as the golden sun began its descent to the mountains of the west.

Galen crawled out of bed and found his clothes neatly folded and stacked on the chest at the foot of the bed. As he pulled them on he noticed they had the fresh, airy smell that comes of a laundering and a drying in the warm sun. His leggings, shirt, and jerkin were there, but his tabard, the one belonging to his grandfather, was missing. Galen hurried to pull on his boots—freshly polished, he noticed, buckled his sword about his waist, and slung his satchel over his shoulder before yanking the door open and clattering down the stairs.

Saliha sat in a rocking chair in a corner of the room humming a tune to herself as she rocked and sewed busily on a blue cloth. As Galen reached the base of the stairs, Saliha bit off the thread and stood.

"Ah, Galen! You are awake. I took the liberty of washing your clothes and mending your lovely tabard," she said, the royal blue garment dangling from her entwined fingers.

"I hope you do not mind. It had a little tear along the hem that wanted fixing."

"Of course not. My thanks, Lady Saliha. You really needn't have gone to so much trouble," replied Galen, relieved.

"Here," said she, handing him the tabard, which he promptly folded and tucked in his satchel. "Am I correct that you are one of the Redemption Knights?" Saliha asked softly, a gentle curiosity filling her dark eyes. Galen's hand flew of its own accord to his satchel.

"You are indeed correct. Your grandfather has taught you well if it was the tabard that betrayed me," Galen replied tersely.

"Yes, I recognized the tabard, but inquired of my grandfather for confirmation. He is most anxious to hear your tale."

"Where is your grandfather?"

"He is attending to the needs of your companion, and will return in time for an early supper before you leave," Saliha replied. "I will begin preparing our meal. If you like, you may speak with your friend," she said, motioning towards the door.

"Thank you, my lady," replied Galen, standing and inclining his head in thanks. He exited the house and strode into the warm glow of the spring afternoon. Galen entered the rust colored barn to see Saliha's grandfather leaning on the door of Aiolos' stall conversing with the stallion. Both turned as he entered.

"Ah, Galen, my boy. You rested well, I trust?" the old man inquired.

"Yes indeed, Sir, thank you."

"Come now, call me Terrabrick, and stop this "Sir" rubbish," he answered, his voice gruff, but his eyes twinkling with laughter.

"Alright, then, Terrabrick. May I speak with Aiolos for a moment?"

"Of course, but tarry not too long, for I dare say Saliha would give you an earful if you let your supper grow cold," Terrabrick replied, a ghost of a smile crossing his weathered face. Galen smiled in return, and Terrabrick left the musty smelling barn carrying two fresh pails of milk as he went.

"Well, my friend, there is no doubt that the Lion led us to this home. Even now He cares for us well," said Aiolos, his brown eyes aglow.

"Indeed, Aiolos, more than you know. They know what I am—she saw the tabard. They will want to hear my story, but what should I say?"

"I believe it will do no harm to tell them of your mission, but do so only after Terrabrick tells you his and tell no specifics of our journey. I am sure they are who they say, but it is best to be certain," replied the horse. "We should leave soon after nightfall. If all goes well we can be within the skirts of the Southern Woods and upon the spurs of the mountains by daybreak."

"I suppose I had better be getting back. I would prefer to avoid Saliha's scoldings," Galen grinned.

"Go then, Galen, but return shortly."

Galen nodded and left the barn. As he returned to the house he smelled the warm fragrance of something beef. He entered the house and saw Saliha filling bowls with a hearty stew of beef and vegetables and placing large hunks of buttered cornbread on wooden plates. Saliha turned at the creak of the door's old hinges, and seeing Galen she smiled.

"Good, you are just in time. Supper is ready," Saliha said as she placed the dishes on the table. "Sit down."

Galen sat, and Terrabrick appeared from the cellar and joined him. The three began the meal and a comfortable silence washed over the room, for they little wished to waste time in conversation that was better used in devouring Saliha's delicious cooking.

Soon enough the stew pot was dry and a satisfied sigh escaped Galen's lips.

"In truth, lady, I have never had so much food, and none as tasty. I wish I could repay your hospitality."

"If you would privilege us with your story 'twould be payment enough," replied Saliha, speaking the thoughts shared by her grandfather.

"I shall endeavor to repay this debt to your satisfaction, but I fear I cannot divulge the minutest details, for I would not endanger my kind hosts even if 'twere on pain of mine own life. I do not wish to impose on you further, Terrabrick, but I would better be able to share my story were I to know your own.

"Of course, dear boy," replied the wizened dwarf. "I was a very young warrior when the Telmarines besieged the Cair. I was one of the Royal Guard- an apprentice to the master handler and almost ready to become a full-fledged knight of the guard. Cair fell, and the master handler bade me flee. I did not wish to do so, but the master's command I obeyed. I joined the ranks of the dwarves in hiding, and we devised a plan of subterfuge and infiltration. We, as dwarves, resembled men the most of all the Narnians, and as such could mingle with them and live among them unsuspected. I was among the first group of dwarves to leave the forest and adopt the ways of the Telmarines. We caused much damage to the Telmarines—sabotaging their war machines, burning fields of crops, assassinating well established lords to keep constant political turmoil. Seldom were we ever discovered, for most Telmarines attributed the strange happenings to the "ghosts of the Black Woods", and any of us who were captured knew we had to die rather than give away any information. Eventually I married Saliha's grandmother—the only Telmarine I ever met who had compassion in her heart. My son married a cold Telmarine maid, and she turned him from the ways of Narnia. He moved to a larger town, and when they both died from illness about thirteen years ago my dear Saliha came to live with me. I trained her in the ways of my homeland, and she has blossomed into far more a Narnian lady than e'er I had hoped. That is the extent of my story, although I do recall knowing a few of your order before Cair fell. One—Sir Drystan—was a particular friend, for he and I were near in age and similar in spirit. Everything was in chaos during the battle, and I know not if Drystan escaped alive. Through him I know the function of your order, Galen, but what of your own story?"

"Good sir," Galen replied, his voice thick with emotion, "I know now I can entrust you with my tale, for that self-same Sir Drystan was, in truth, my grandfather. He was the only of our order to escape the carnage at Cair Paravel. He guarded the Stone Knife and brought it to the safety of the forests, bequeathing knighthood and his sacred duty to my father, his son, who but recently passed it to me with his dying breath. I thank Aslan, for He hath given me sanctuary in the house of my grandfather's friend as I endeavor to fulfill my duty and promise. I promised my father I would take the knife to a place beyond Telmarine grasp where it would be safe for all time, and that promise brings me on this journey."

Terrabrick's eyes shone with unshed tears, and his voice trembled as he said, "In truth, the Lion has blessed me in my old age to bring me the grandson of my old friend."

"May we see the Stone Knife?" Saliha inquired, eyes bright with curiosity.

Galen nodded once and gently drew the wooden box from his satchel. Laying it carefully on the table, he turned the latch and opened the carved top, revealing the knife nestled in blue velvet. The dark blade gleamed in the firelight, and the sapphire pommel shone with a soft radiance of its own. A light sigh escaped Saliha's lips as she beheld the relic, and Terrabrick felt as though an empty space in his heart had been filled to be so close to one of the two holiest artifacts of his homeland, and the sight of it brought a flood of memories unbidden to his mind.

"I never dreamt I would see this precious symbol of my home again," he breathed. Terrabrick looked up to the window and say the last gleam of dusk had given way to the twinkling of stars. He closed the case and locked the latch, his hand tarrying upon its carved surface for the barest moment.

"Go, my son. Fulfill thy noble quest, and accept my sincerest thanks. Thou hast revived an old man's heart this day."

All stood, and Terrabrick grasped Galen's arm firmly in warrior's handshake.

"Lion keep thee, Sir Galen," the dwarf blessed, eyes evenly meeting Galen's.

"May the road yield before thee, may thy blade remain beside thee true, and through thy journeys, where'er they be, may Aslan keep thee ever between His mighty paws. Fare thee well," Saliha spoke the ancient traveler's blessing and embraced him tightly.

"Thank you both. You have helped me more than e'er I can repay. Aslan keep you both," returned Galen, then turned and slipped out the door. He hurried to the barn and quickly saddled Aiolos, then pulled his cloak around him and mounted. Horse and boy galloped from the barn, and soon the thump of hoof beats sounded on the road as the stalwart travelers began their journey anew.

* * *

The mood was far into her celestial path, but a wakeful man sat yet in his Spartan study. A second's glance was more than enough to see he was a warrior—a commander who had seen battle and blood many times over. This night the commander was puzzled with the reports he had received that evening. It seemed as though the entire southern countryside had suddenly been swept with fear this day, for a hundred separate reports of a dark hooded specter—a mysterious midnight rider flying through the southern villages had been given to him by panicked farmers. This commander did not put much stock in specters or other such tales of the Black Woods, but still something in the midnight air felt different to him as he stared out his towered window at the crescent moon. Perhaps something was afoot despite its preposterously superstitious feel.

A knock sounded at his door.

"Enter!" he commanded, and a young soldier did so, leading a roughly clothed townsperson.

"I am sorry to bother you, Sir, but this man insists he has important information for you."

"Thank you, corporal. What do you wish to report mister…?"

"Afrim, Sir"

"Alright, Mr. Afrim, what have you to say?"

"I have seen a great and terrible thing this ill-omened night, Sir. As I and my family sat down to eat, a lone rider—swathed in black—galloped through the town. Mist enshrouded the specter—and I specter it was, I warrant, it seemed not even earthly in itself and dangerous, as specters are wont to be," Mr. Afrim replied.

"The specter again! I tire of hearing of this grim apparition! Corporal, escort Mr. Afrim out immediately!"

The frustrated commander retook his seat. A moment later he unrolled a map and picked up a quill pen. Sifting through his sheaf of parchment, he marked each specter sighting precisely on the map. Presently a cunning smile curved his lips and a chuckle escaped them.

"Ah, ha, Southton. How gloriously predictable. Corporal!"

The door opened

"Yes, Sir?"

"Saddle my horse and ready half the garrison for travel. I little think a specter is flying about the countryside, but whatever or whoever it is we shall be sure to catch. We ride for Southton within half an hour.

* * *

Galen and Aiolos were, at that time, making rather slow progress through a patch of quagmire. The road, it seemed, ran over a stream whose banks had swollen with the spring snowmelt, and had consequently turned the dirt road treacherous.

"Oh, Aiolos, look out!"

"I am looking out!"

"We're stuck!"

"No we aren't, Galen."

"Yes we are."

"They are my hooves, boy. I would know," was the string of outbursts which came of frustrated minds, strained tempers, and entirely too much mud. These, however, would soon prove to be the least of their troubles that night.

Soon enough the two travelers extricated themselves from the much and continued on. Just as before, they galloped as fleetly as an eagle flies through moonlit mist and sleepy hamlets without event. The plains melted away into rolling hills, and the hills gave way to steeper hills and green valleys.

Finally, as the moon began its downward step, Galen and Aiolos paused as the road reached the crest of a hill and wound down into the valley below. From this vantage point they could see a larger town nestled between the hills. The lights of the town still twinkled brightly despite the late hour, and the town's gates stood open. A great snow-capped mountain towered over the valley, and her sisters spread out on either side as far as the eye could see. Mt. Pire's forked peak gleamed jaggedly to the west, and the magnificent height of Stormness Head spiraled dizzyingly upward to the east. The moonlight lent an eerie, ethereal shadow to the scenery spread before them, and the air was crisp and cold.

"There is Southton, Galen, our last obstruction from freedom in Archenland."

"Why do we not circumvent this town altogether and enter the mountains and forests without hindrance?"

"There are many old mountain paths, Galen, but only one crosses them into Archenland. The mountains are treacherous, but that is not our primary problem. Narnia's southern border is guarded by an extensive system of castles and forts linked by strong stone walls. In some places the walls have fallen into disrepair, but we cannot know where. Southton's southern gate must open directly onto the Southern Pass, and there is no way around it."

"I suppose we'd best be going on then, my friend," replied Galen.

"Indeed," agreed Aiolos, and the pair of travelers began the descent into the valley.

Unbeknownst to the young knight and his equine companion, their descent was observed from Southton's wall by a maille-clad man with cold, steely eyes.

Galen pulled his dark hood closer around his head and laid a hand to his sword hilt as they passed through the gate and into town. They continued at a brisk walk through the middle of the little city, passing many a shop and tavern from which yellow light and raucous laughter emanated.

What was really mere moments seemed endless ages of foreboding time to Galen. The road ended in a cul-de-sac—a dead end framed by houses. Here was the fatal error of their plan: Southton had no south gate. The Telmarines feared the wooded mountain slopes too much to build one, and Aiolos had assumed wrongly.

An ominous clang rang through the cold air—the north and only gate had been shut—an iron portcullis sealing the town and seemingly the two Narnians' fates as well.

* * *

Author's note: I am hoping to update by Thanksgiving, but with all the dreadful schoolwork and college applications and such, I can make no promises.

Please drop a review on your way out!


	7. Chapter the sixth: Flight to Anvard

Author's note: My apologies, once again. June is certainly not as soon as I wanted to update, but life had other plans. As a consolation, this is the longest chapter to date. I hope you enjoy it, and would greatly appreciate your comments. I also increased the rating from K+ to T because of some violence. It isn't all that bad, but I wanted to be sure.

Disclaimer: Narnia belongs to C.S. Lewis, not me.

* * *

Chapter the Sixth: Flight to Anvard

"Aiolos, I thought you said there was a Southern gate!"

"Apparently not," Aiolos answered a trifle snappishly.

A noise overhead pulled Galen's gaze to the parapet and he watched as Telmarine soldiers flooded the wall. Galen turned Aiolos away from the end of the cul-de-sac and they entered a narrow alley between two rows of closely-packed houses.

"What should we do?" Galen asked in hushed tones.

"We could hide, or try to blend in until they reopen the gate. There is a tavern on the corner. You would be able to blend in well enough amongst its occupants."

A shout rang from the parapet and soldiers began to sweep the city.

"Well, it looks like our only choice," Galen responded.

They rode to the tavern and Galen dismounted.

"Tie the reins loosely to the hitching post so that I can pull them loose if the need arises."

Galen obeyed and walked towards the tavern door, pulling the hood of his cloak up around his head. He pulled open the crude wooden door and dim oily light spilled out into the street. The hum of voices momentarily stopped as Galen entered the tavern and all the occupants turned to look at the newcomer. Galen proceeded to move to an unoccupied table in the corner farthest from the fire and took a seat. Conversation resumed in the tavern. Clustered by the fire were rough-looking, bearded men with mugs of ale trading jokes and stories with small levels of truthfulness.

"So, what do you think about the rumor of a specter from the Black Woods haunting the southern roads, Jaden?" one Telmarine asked his companion.

"It sounds like a bunch of hogwash to me. Those simpletons imagine too much," Jaden replied with harsh laughter.

"There might be truth to the rumors," a wide-eyed wench remarked. "The Black Woods are full of ghosts. It could be a ghost come to take revenge for the conquests of King Caspian the Conqueror."

"What would you know of either ghosts or history, girl?"

"The young lady has a point, Jaden," another patron interjected with a grin. "Even now the soldiers search for some fugitive, and I have heard whispers say they search for the hooded specter."

Meanwhile, another tavern wench with dark wavy hair approached Galen's table. She wore a muslin blouse with ruffled sleeves, a brown gathered skirt and a blue corset top and carried a round tray.

"Can I get anything for you, sir? A mug of ale, perhaps?"

"Yes," Galen replied tersely. "Thank you."

The bar maid turned and moved back to retrieve the requested drink, puzzled by the strange hooded figure enshrouded in shadows. She returned to Galen's table and set a pewter mug of brown ale down in front of him.

Suddenly, the door was thrown open and several helmeted soldiers entered the tavern. Murmuring voices hushed and turned to look. The first soldier stepped forward.

"We search for a fugitive. Have any of you seen any strangers?" he asked brusquely. Everyone looked at everyone else, but no one answered. The soldier took a step and seized the blue-clothed maid by the arm, drawing his dagger from its scabbard and pressing the sharp tip to the base of her throat. The girl gasped and the tavern patrons stood as the other soldiers drew their swords.

"Answer me!" The lead soldier demanded.

"The only stranger to come in here is the hooded one in the corner," the wench answered, her voice trembling. A trickle of blood formed at the dagger's tip.

The soldier released the maid and shoved her to the floor. The other girl rushed to her side.

The soldier turned his attention to Galen.

"Identify yourself," he ordered.

Galen stood, still hooded, and gave no answer, resting his hand on his sword. The Telmarine soldier reached up to pull back Galen's hood, but Galen raised his arm to block the Telmarine's hand and delivered a swift kick to his chest that struck the soldier to the floor. Galen drew his sword to meet the blade of the other soldier closest to him, parried the Telmarine's high slash with the flat and delivered a fatal thrust to the Telmarine's heart. The bar maids shrieked and another soldier attacked as the lead soldier regained his footing and attacked at the same time. Clashes of steel rang in the air and a flurry of swords flashed in the firelight as two more soldiers ran inside the tavern. Sir Achaicus had trained Galen well and soon another Telmarine lay on the floor slain by Galen's hand. The occupants of the tavern retreated to cower behind the bar as the four swordsmen fought.

Galen blocked a blow from one Telmarine and kicked another to the ground, ducked a high blow and dispatched the soldier who attempted it. A moment later another soldier fell, leaving Galen to fight just the leader. They went at it hammer and tongs, parry after parry, strike after strike. Finally Galen seized a second's weakness and the leading soldier joined his companions on the wooden floor, his blood mingling with theirs.

Galen ran from the tavern and found Aiolos waiting for him near the door. He paused for the barest moment to plunge his sword into the ground to clean it, then returned it to its scabbard and swung swiftly into the saddle as Aiolos took flight down the alley. One of the soldiers lying on the tavern floor summoned strength enough to blow his horn and sound the alarm with his last breath. The deep horn reverberated in the air and shouts of soldiers and the stomp of galloping horses gave answer.

"What did you do?" Aiolos asked.

"I killed four Telmarine guards."

"So much for blending in. I hope we can find a way out of this death trap of a city."

Pounding hooves thudded through the streets and with shouts they converged on the fleeing pair. Galen drew his sword once more and charged the Telmarine horsemen who blocked his way. One fell to a sharp slash and Aiolos continued to gallop through the Southton streets.

Several more blocked them in again and forced Aiolos to a halt. Galen fought well and dispatched several more Telmarines, but a hard blow from a Telmarine gauntlet unseated him and sent him tumbling to the ground. His sword flew out of his hand and in a flash four soldiers held him fast. Another seized Aiolos' reins. The one who unseated Galen remained on his horse and ordered that Galen be taken to the commander.

The Telmarines took Galen to the turret near the gate and told the guard standing there to inform Commander Despiadado that they had a prisoner.

A few moments later the steely-eyed commander descended the tower's stairs and joined his men.

"You have done well, Lieutenant," Despiadado approved.

"His sword, Commander," the lieutenant stated and handed Galen's broadsword to the commander. Despiadado took the blade and inspected it with a keen eye.

"Interesting. Blue steel, well tempered, well balanced. A fine sword, young one, but an old sword. It carries detailed inscriptions on the flat in a language I have never seen. What do they mean?"

Galen remained silent, replying with a defiant glare that flashed in his blue eyes. The commander frowned. Despiadado slowly circled Galen, the Narnian sword still in his hands.

"You are not Telmarine—your hair is too light, and your eyes carry the defiance of one who has not known the taste of submission or slavery. Telmarine villagers cower too quickly for you to be one of them. Archenlandish, perhaps? Or Terebinthian? Ah, well. You will tell me in time."

Galen continued to remain silent.

"You know not submission, but you will," he said ominously. He completed the circle and stood in front of Galen again and met Galen's eyes with a cold, hard stare of his own.

"Kneel," he commanded.

"I kneel to no one," Galen defied, meeting the commander's gaze evenly.

The commander nodded to the soldiers holding Galen and they forced him down, still glaring, with firm hands remaining on his shoulders.

"Who are you?" Despiadado asked menacingly.

When Galen refused to answer, the commander raised his gloved hand and struck a hard blow to Galen's cheek that sent a trickle of blood slowly snaking down his face. Galen raised his head up and met Despiadado's glare again.

"You may force me to kneel before you, but my spirit remains unbowed. I kneel to only One, and no Telmarine is He."

"We shall see," the commander replied, raising his hand to strike again.

At that moment Aiolos kicked one of the soldiers and pulled his reins from the hands of the Telmarine who held them and ran. Distracted, the soldiers who held Galen momentarily released him. In that moment Galen pulled a dirk from his boot and thrust it into the distracted commander's lower torso. With the momentum he forced the commander to the ground and wrenched his sword from Despiadado's hand. However, the Telmarine commander was not one to fall easily. As Galen retook his sword the commander dealt him a crushing blow that sent Galen backwards into the dirt before falling back himself. The other soldiers rushed to their commander's aid, giving Galen time to run to Aiolos and mount. Aiolos increased his speed from a trot to a full gallop and the pair made for the south end of the city.

"Leave me! After the boy!" the commander's strong voice ordered his soldiers, the voice hardly weakened by Galen's strike. Four obeyed his command and took to their horses while one stayed to help Despiadado into the turret.

Aiolos galloped down another alleyway and momentarily lost the Telmarines following. Both wondered how to escape the city, and at that moment a soft breeze blew past Galen's ear. The wind seemed to carry a trace of a rich, golden voice and a strange, sweet smell that caressed Galen's face and whispered, "The south wall yields to freedom."

"Aiolos, did you hear that?"

Without responding the horse turned and made for the opening of the alleyway. Narnian hooves pounded the road's dirt as they flew towards the south wall. As they approached it, the moon's silver light struck the wall in such a way that it illuminated a thin metal band that encased a rectangular section of stones in the wall for the barest moment—a flash of light and it was gone. Galen dismounted and found a concealed door in the wall that opened onto the southern mountains. The Telmarines did not trust each other, and left themselves escape routes just in case.

Galen wasted no time in remounting Aiolos and the two galloped for the hills. The guards on the parapet spotted the horse and rider almost immediately and sounded the alarm. From the top of one of the turrets the commander, now bandaged, stood with crossbow in hand.

"Fire at will!" he ordered, and added his bolt his men's.

Almost immediately a hail of crossbow bolts rained down on Galen and Aiolos from the parapet. Aiolos flew as fast as the wind he was named for, but one bolt, Despiadado's, found its mark as they reached the skirts of the Southern Woods. Galen uttered a cry as the bolt imbedded itself in his left shoulder. Aiolos continued to run, and soon they had left Southton's bristling parapet behind. The forest welcomed them within its dark borders as the two found the overgrown path of the Southern Pass and followed it.

"Galen, what happened?"

"A Telmarine bolt," Galen gasped.

"Break the shaft off as closely as you can—it will help if the bolt does not hurt you even more by coming into contact with passing tree limbs. I cannot help you beyond this, but we can make it to Anvard by mid-morning. Hold on tightly, my friend," Aiolos advised, and Galen struggled to obey.

As they raced to Archenland the mountains towered above them, and the pine trees creaked and groaned in the wind. It seemed as though the deep-sleeping dryads still mourned for Narnia. In an hour's time the pine trees began to thin out and become dusted in snow as the eastern sky became tinged with gold. Soon Aiolos picked his footing carefully along the eyebrow trail that the Southern Pass became as it climbed around Mount Argyros. As they rounded the mountain the trail thickened into a ledge that overlooked Archenland. A great swath of green spread out before them and the forked peak of Mt. Pire glistened in the golden morning sunlight. They continued on the trail as it descended the mountains. In a few hours they were cantering through the verdant deciduous forests of Archenland. They came across a clear, babbling stream and Aiolos decided to take a rest. Galen dismounted with a moan and fell to his knees next to the stream. Both drank deeply of the clear Archen stream.

"So this is what freedom tastes like," Galen observed, a trifle melancholy, "clean and sweet. If only Narnia could know this taste again."

"She will once again, Galen. I know not when, but some day the kings and queens of old will return to vanquish the Telmarines and bring freedom to Narnia once more. By preserving one of Narnia's greatest, most powerful treasures, you are aiding that freedom's advent more than anything else."

Galen paused for a moment, and then spoke again.

"Aiolos, I have committed a great wrong."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"The Telmarine commander—I attacked him without warning, wounded him in the basest of fashions, and in so doing betrayed the honor of my Order."

"You have not betrayed your honor, Galen. The Telmarines had no honor in what they did to Narnia, the Telmarine commander had no honor in what he did to you, and you had little choice. If we were to escape and complete this mission you had to do what you did."

"Perhaps so, Aiolos, but it still does not feel right."

"It never will, Galen. Come, Anvard's gates are not too far away."

Galen remounted and Aiolos surged forward with renewed strength. As the sun climbed higher in the sky the high grey towers of Anvard came into view above the trees, the green and gold Archenland flag snapping proudly in the wind at every turret. The Narnians emerged from the trees and crossed the small plain to the wide, open gate of the Anvard castle. Many people bustled in and out of the gate, and the pair did not go unnoticed as they entered. Aiolos, as a talking horse, was somewhat larger than the dumb Archen horses, and several people murmured in puzzlement at the sight of the unusually large horse and wounded rider. A green-clad Archen guard stopped the pair at the inner entrance to the caste.

"What business have you in Anvard, sir?"

"We must meet with King Lorn. We come on a matter of the greatest importance," Galen replied, dismounting. Galen's legs buckled underneath him for a moment, but Aiolos steadied him.

"Perhaps you would like to rest first, sir, and have a healer tend to your wound. Your horse will be well taken care of."

"I am no one's horse, young one," Aiolos interjected, startling the guard and causing a few of the gathered crowd of people to gasp. "We have both come on this mission and we will both see the king."

"My injury can wait, although I thank you for your concern. We must speak with King Lorn. We have come across the mountains from Narnia to seek his aid," Galen continued.

"Telmarine! How dare you set foot in this castle!" the guard gave as answer, drawing his sword.

"Does a free Narnian horse allow a Telmarine to ride him? We come from the Narnian Remnants' Council," Aiolos declared. A murmur went through the crowd:

"Narnians!"

"We have not heard from them for decades!"

"We thought them all dead!"

"If you indeed speak the truth, then you are both most welcome in Archenland," the guard replied, replacing his sword in its scabbard. "Come with me, I will show you to King Lorn immediately."

Galen and Aiolos followed the guard into the castle. The walls and floor were made of stone and hung with colorful tapestries depicting events of Archenland's history—of Fair Olvin and Lady Liln, of the great battle with Rabadash the Ridiculous, of King Cor and Queen Aravis, of Prince Corin's fight with the great bear of the mountains, of King Ram the Great, and of the two battles of Mount Argyros-one that kept the White Witch from enslaving Archenland and the other the one that kept the Telmarines from doing the same.

The hallway opened into a great throne room composed of the same grey stone with white marble columns. Torches flickered in wall brackets, light flooded in from the stained glass windows on the balcony level, and behind the two marble thrones the Archen flag—a golden gryphon on a hunter green field—hung from the balcony railing. King Lorn and Queen Leila sat upon the thrones and were at present conducting some business with an ambassador from Galma.

King Lorn was a tall, broad-shouldered man with light brown hair and blue eyes in his mid forties and wore a blue shirt, leather jerkin, brown breeches, and tall boots. He was a kind, fair ruler with a strong sense of duty to the country he served. Queen Leila had wavy golden hair, green eyes, was about the same age as her husband, and wore a flowing blue dress. She held great love for Archenland and tempered her husband's sword with the gentle hand of wisdom.

"My king and queen," the guard cried loudly, "forgive the interruption. I bring travelers from the Narnian Remnants' Council who greatly desire an audience with your majesties." The Archen monarchs looked up in surprise at the mention of the Narnian Council and made their apologies to the Galman ambassador.

"By all means, sirs, come forward and state your business," King Lorn addressed Galen and Aiolos. Galen and Aiolos approached the king and queen and Galen bowed politely.

"We have come a great ways, and we ask that you grant us sanctuary. The Telmarines were loathe to let us leave peaceably, but by the grace of Aslan we escaped with our lives," Galen began.

"What matter could be of such great significance that it would require you to risk your lives and seek sanctuary in Archenland?"

"I beg your pardon, King Lorn, but the matter cannot be discussed in open court," Aiolos interjected. "Of your courtesy, grant us a private audience so that we may better discuss the matter at hand."

"Court will recess for lunch in a short while. If you would care to join us for midday repast, you could tell your tale in confidence then," Queen Leila answered. "As Narnians, our sworn allies, we grant you the sanctuary you have requested."

"My thanks," Galen said, inclining his head. His head did not raise, however, but drooped further towards the stone floor. Galen leaned against Aiolos for a moment, but still the thrones in front of him became blurred until they spun away and dark oblivion encompassed him as he crumpled to the floor.

* * *

Name meanings:

Despiadado is Spanish for "ruthless"

Argyros is Greek for "silver"

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	8. Chapter the seventh: Warrior's Test

Author's Note: I have decided to change the Archenland flag's description to green and gold instead of blue and white. I think I'm rather obsessed with blue and white and started to make everything the same color. Sorry about that.

Updated Author's Note: I'm having heraldry problems. I apologize, I've now changed Archenland's flag symbol again to a gryphon instead of a rose. A rose was too Tudor.

Also, it is important for me to mention that Petraverd's plot bunny (that he generously allowed me to use for this story) compared the Holy Grail and the Stone Knife, so a good deal of the inspiration for the story is coming from Arthurian legends, more specifically the tale of Sir Galahad and the Quest for the Holy Grail. This chapter will begin to exhibit that more than the others.

Disclaimer: Narnia is not mine. The End.

* * *

Chapter the Seventh: Warrior's Test

Queen Leila ascended a grey stairway to the parapet surrounding the castle of Anvard. She had just finished attending to Galen's injury and now joined her husband as he leaned on the wall and stared at the sweeping green forest before him.

"You have attended to our visitor, m'lady?"

"Indeed, good sir, I have."

"In truth, Leila, I know not whether to trust this Sir Galen. Mayhap he is who he claims to be, but he could also be a Telmarine come to infiltrate our land," King Lorn spoke softly. The queen pulled the broken shaft of a bolt from the bag on her belt and laid it on the wall before her husband.

"This is the bolt that wounded him. At least in this he has spoken the truth."

"Aye, it is Telmarine," the king replied, examining the cruel weapon, "and his sword is clearly Narnian, yet I am still unsure. His manner and speech declare him as Narnian and I am inclined to take him at his word, but Archenland's security must come as our first priority. There is always the chance that he is a Telmarine spy despite appearances."

"I concur."

"I will have a guard posted at his door, and we will test him later."

Galen awoke to morning sunlight streaming through the narrow arrow-slit style window. A forest green canopy draped over the bed and a matching down comforter covered the bed. A dark wooden dresser stood next to the bed and a silver basin and pitcher sat on top of it. The room was not a large one, but it was not overly small either. A fireplace was built into the wall to the right of the bed and a small, warm fire crackled inside it. A chair sat near the fireplace and a neatly folded tunic, shirt, and breeches sat on top of it. His boots stood freshly polished beside the chair and he noticed his satchel on the dresser. However, Galen noticed with slight alarm that his sword was absent from the room.

Galen sat up with a wince and noticed that his shoulder was now wrapped in layers of bandages and his left arm rested in a sling. He stood up and dressed (getting rid of the bothersome sling in the process), and he wanted to wear his grandfather's tabard instead of the green tunic, but the blue tabard was no where to be found. He pulled on his boots and buckled on his sword-belt. After checking to make sure the Stone Knife was still in its satchel, he put the strap over his shoulder and opened the door. A guard in a chain maille hauberk and green tabard with the golden Archen gryphon stood next to the door and turned to face Galen as he exited the room.

"Good afternoon, Sir Galen."

"Where is my sword, sir?" Galen asked the guard, but received no answer.

"The King and Queen are expecting you for breakfast. If you will follow me, sir," the guard said brusquely, turning to the left.

Galen followed the guard, unsettled by the guard's shortness.

"What of Aiolos?" Galen asked.

"The king and queen will answer what questions you have," the guard responded without turning around.

Galen followed the guard down the hallway and past a great stairway that led to the throne room. They continued down the hall until they reached the East Wing of the castle and stopped in front of a massive wooden double door. Another similarly clothed guard stood next to the door holding a halberd.

"I bring the visitor, Sir Galen, for a private audience with the king and queen."

"You may enter, sir, they are expecting you," the other guard answered and opened one of the doors. The first guard took up a post on the other side of the double doors and Galen entered.

The doors led to a sitting room painted ivory and furnished with two blue jacquard couches and a coffee table. The east wall contained a large curtained window that showed the castle courtyard, outer wall, and green forest. A door stood in each of the north and south walls. A chamber maid approached Galen and led him through the door in the south wall and into a large room that functioned as a private dining room. The room had a large balcony that ran the length of the room on the east side, and cheerful morning light illuminated the room. Several french doors curtained in white chiffon stood open in front of the balcony and potted flower plants in many vibrant colors stood near rose-covered columns. A cool breeze wafted into the room and rustled the chiffon curtains. A medium sized glass table covered in a purple table cloth and set with fine china dishes stood in the center of the room. King Lorn and Queen Leila sat at this table and welcomed him.

"Good afternoon, Sir Galen, please join us," Queen Leila invited.

"My thanks, your majesties," Galen replied, sitting.

Two servants stepped up and served a delicious breakfast of hot biscuits with butter and jam and bacon and sausage.

"I trust you are feeling better," King Lorn began before taking a bite of biscuit.

"Yes, sir, indeed," Galen replied. "I must offer my thanks to the healer who tended my injury."

"I and my daughter took care of you," Queen Leila answered.

"I am most grateful, Lady. You and your daughter have my sincere thanks," Galen replied, inclining his head.

"You are most welcome, Sir Galen. I would very much like to hear the tale you would not divulge in court."

"Of your majesties' courtesy, I would prefer to wait until I can speak in confidence," Galen replied, glancing at the maids.

"Of course," King Lorn said. "My thanks for your service," he addressed the servants. "You are no longer needed."

The servants complied, shutting the door behind them.

"You may speak without reservation now."

"First, of your courtesy, I must ask where my companion is and why you have taken my sword and tabard."

"Aiolos is in the stables. I assure you he is being well attended," the king replied. "As for your sword, it will be returned shortly. As for your tabard," King Lorn picked up the item in question from a table nearby, "Anvard's historians tell me it is the heraldry of Narnia's Order of the Lion's Redemption."

"Yes."

"Have you the right and privilege to wear it?"

This last question sparked a flash of anger in Galen's already icy eyes and the Narnian stood.

"I wear this tabard as have my father and grandfather before me. My grandfather watched as Telmarine soldiers vanquished Cair Paravel and raised their horrid flag above it's once-shining walls. My father was slain by a Telmarine bolt, and he bequeathed this Order and this Order's duty upon me. Return my sword and I will prove my honor and the veracity of my words upon the person of any Archen knight you choose."

"Pray be seated, Sir Galen," Queen Leila interjected. "We do not question your honor, but we must be sure that you are who you claim to be."

"I apologize, Sir Galen," King Lorn said after a moment's pause. "Please tell us why you have come to Archenland."

Galen retook his seat and laid the Stone Knife's box on the table and opened the cover.

"You are aware of the function of the Order of the Lion's Redemption?"

"Indeed."

"I am here in fulfillment of that duty. Before my father died I promised him that I would take the Stone Knife to a safe place where the Telmarines could never find it. I come here by the authority of Narnia's Remnant Council and seek your aid in the protection of this sacred relic."

The king and queen looked at each other in slight surprise.

"Your cautious manner was well warranted, Sir Galen. I believe you speak the truth. Archenland welcomes both you and Aiolos and we gladly grant you the sanctuary you have requested."

As King Lorn finished speaking an urgent knock sounded upon the door.

"Enter!" Queen Leila ordered.

A rather out-of-breath guard entered and bowed.

"My apologies, your majesties, but you must come with me."

"What is of such urgency?"

"A great marvel, m'lady. You will all wish to see it."

The king, queen, and Galen followed the guard back through the sitting room and through the double doors into the hallway. They were not the only ones-as the group hurried out of the hallway and descended the great stairway to the throne room they saw many others hurrying through the passageways to converge on the gate of the castle keep. The guard led them into the courtyard, and by now they wondered what could cause such a stir.

A murmuring crowd gathered in the courtyard and the Archen monarchs made their way to the front. The sight that greeted them was unlike any other.

In the center of the courtyard stood a large block of white marble stone and imbedded deep into the rock was a great sword. The sword's pommel was the head of a Lion that shone silver in the morning light. The sun's golden rays set the sapphires inlaid around the hilt aglow with sparkling fire, and upon the marble a verse was engraved.

King Lorn stepped up to the stone and the crowd silenced.

"How did this stone come to Anvard?"

A young lady in a flowing white dress with a silver belt and thin silver circlet stepped forward.

"Father," she addressed King Lorn, "I was here in the courtyard as this marvel appeared. A furious whirlwind lingered over the courtyard for a moment and when the dust settled this stone was revealed."

"My thanks, Lyra," King Lorn replied.

King Lorn paused for a moment, then he raised his voice and read the lines inscribed in front of the sword:

"Only he of spirit both true and strong,

Of valiant heart and steady hand,

May grasp the aged silver hilt,

And draw what has rested long.

Prove ye worthy."

Silence filled the courtyard for a moment.

"My king!" A knight stepped forward.

"Yes, Sir Eoghan," King Lorn answered.

"If I may suggest, let all of the knights try their hand at removing the sword."

"Let it be so. Perhaps you would care to try it first?"

"Indeed, sire," Sir Eoghan replied, stepping up to the great sword and grasping the hilt.

Sir Eoghan pulled, first with one hand and then with two, straining to remove the sword from its scabbard of marble, but he could not do it. He walked away fuming.

Another knight stepped up to try, but he could not remove the sword either and left with his head bowed in shame. One by one Archenland's knights tried to pull the sword out, but the sword still stood immovable.

Finally, King Lorn tried his hand at the task, but he too failed.

"What now, Sire?" one knight asked. "None of us can remove the sword."

"Of what consequence is the sword? Can we let it defeat the knights of Archenland simply by standing here? Let the blacksmith bring his hammer-we will see how long the marble will stand against us then," Sir Eoghan declared.

"Not yet, Sir Eoghan," King Lorn interjected. "It is here for some purpose. Let us discover it." Silence filled the courtyard again.

"Sir Galen," King Lorn addressed the Narnian (who now stood next to Aiolos, who had come to see the interesting goings-on). "You have not tried the sword. Perhaps you will be able to remove it."

"What can he do?" Another knight scoffed. "He is but a boy."

"Let him try," King Lorn replied quietly.

Galen stepped up to the stone, his heart pounding, and grasped the silver hilt. He pulled with all the strength he had and, to the amazement of himself and everyone in the courtyard, the sword slipped from the marble stone. Galen pulled it free from the marble and held the gleaming blade high.

Galen beheld the sword with awe-it was almost five feet long and of such fine craftsmanship that no mortal smith could claim its making. The Stone Knife was engraved on the flat of the blade along with a poem (albeit in the ancient Narnian tongue):

"When freedom lies conquered by the swords of tyranny,

The last of an Order forged in years of Gold

Will rise to fulfill the duty of many.

In trials begins an ancient Quest,

Entwined in myth and legend's peril,

To find a holy place of rest."

Galen stood in wonder as he pondered the verse. Suddenly a cry of terror rang out clearly across the courtyard. Galen looked up to see a knight in black armor suddenly appear in front of him.

The knight raised his giant sword in salute, silently challenging the young Narnian to battle. Galen raised the stone-sword in answer.

The black knight wasted no time and swung his blade in attack. Galen blocked the strike and the knight swung his sword around and struck again from the other side. Galen parried the blow by holding his sword vertically and meeting the black knight's sword with the flat of his blade.

Galen swung his sword towards the knight's breastplate, but the knight blocked the blow easily and brought his sword over his head in a slash aimed at Galen's shoulder. Galen parried the strike and the two knights' blades stuck together for a moment. Galen struggled to hold his ground against the massive knight, and his wounded shoulder protested the strain. The black knight struck Galen with the back of his gauntlet and the swords disengaged as Galen tumbled to the ground.

The knight paused long enough for Galen to regain his footing, then attacked again in full force. The clash of steel on steel rang in the clear Archen air as the knights fought. The crowd watched in anxious silence as the black knight swung his sword towards Galen's head. The Narnian ducked the blow and struck upwards. The knight spun out of the way and used the momentum to swing at Galen again. Galen leaned back and the sword passed over his head, missing its mark by a hair's breadth.

The knight slashed and Galen parried, then struck again. The knight blocked the blow and kicked Galen back forcefully. Galen landed in a corner with a moan; his shoulder was throbbing and had started to bleed again. The knight took several large steps and closed on the young Narnian.

Galen stood once more and aimed a powerful backslash. The impact of the blow hardly slowed the knight down. The knight swung for Galen's legs but the young knight jumped over the sword as it passed and brought his sword down on the black knight's shoulder at a joint in the armor. This time the knight staggered back a trifle, allowing Galen the barest moment of rest.

Galen followed up on his successful strike with a slash towards the knight's breastplate, but the knight blocked the blow and used Galen's momentum to his advantage by shoving the Narnian's injured shoulder in the direction of the blow, which caused Galen to inadvertently turn his back to the knight for a second. The knight seized the second to bring his sword slashing across Galen's back. This time the black knight's sword drew Narnian blood, and with a cry Galen fell to the ground.

A few people in the crowd gasped, and King Lorn drew his sword and came to Galen's defense. Lorn struck the black knight, but the sword of Archenland's king passed through the knight as though through air. The black knight did not so much as turn his head, but raised his sword to run the injured knight through as he lay on the courtyard's stones.

Galen rolled out of the way and the black knight's blade struck only granite. Galen struggled to his feet and blocked another vicious blow, but the deadly knight advanced rapidly, unstoppably. He struck a blow to Galen's right arm, and the once cream colored shirt quickly took on a much redder hue. The young Narnian was weakening, and the black knight kicked him down into the corner of the wall again.

The black knight raised his sword to strike Galen a fatal blow. As the wounded knight looked up at the knight who would slay him, the image of his dying father flashed into his mind.

"You must promise me that you will protect the Stone Knife inside this box with your life, just as I and your grandfather have, and just as every Knight of the Order of the Lion's Redemption have for a thousand years. What's more, promise me that you will take the Knife to a place where it will be safe forever, and the Telmarines can never take it. Promise me."

"Yes, father. I promise."

Galen remembered that oath he had sworn to his father and resolved that he would not break that oath at the end of this black knight's foul sword. Galen rallied his last remaining strength and surged to his feet. In the process he struck a blow to the black knight's breastplate that left a dent in the armor, sending the black knight staggering backwards. Galen followed up quickly and struck twice more in quick succession. The black knight fell back to the castle's gate, but managed another strike of his own.

Galen struck at the knight's helm, but was thwarted by a skillful parry. Again Galen attacked, but the knight blocked his attempts. The black knight struck Galen's leg, causing Galen to stumble to the ground. Galen used the position to his advantage surged upward to make one great thrust. The black breastplate yielded before the great stone's sword as a sapling yields before the wind, and the Narnian-wielded blade struck home. The black knight crumpled over the blade and fell to his knees. Galen pulled the sword back and the black knight fell to the ground, never to rise again.

The once-silent crowd erupted in cheers, and a wave of Anvard's inhabitants converged on the almost-fallen knight. Galen fell to one knee, his strength spent, supporting himself on the great sword. Princess Lyra was one of the closest and she helped him to stand up once more. As he stood, he happened to look to the sword, and in surprise he noted that the blade was not stained with blood. A moment later, to the amazement of all who watched, the black knight's body spontaneously caught fire. In several seconds' time the blaze died as suddenly and mysteriously as it began.

Everyone stepped forward again, and on the stones where the black knight had fallen a scabbard lay. The scabbard was cased in dark leather and had a tip and throat of silver. Etched in the leather was the silver image of the Stone Knife and small sapphire gems edged the silver throat.

Galen bent down and picked it up. After a moment of studying it he slipped the sword into the scabbard, which fitted the sword perfectly. As the distinctive snap of the sword fitting into the scabbard sounded, a whisper, like a springtime wind, echoed in the courtyard as the marble stone that once held Galen's new sword disappeared.

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Please review!


	9. Chapter 8: Bandages, Gossip, and Ballads

Author's Note: My apologies, once again, for the lateness of the update. I have not had an abundance of free time. Ah, the joys of college.

Disclaimer: Narnia, Archenland, and other related things do not belong to me. Unfamiliar characters and names that I do not expressly credit to someone else do belong to me, please use them only with permission.

* * *

Chapter the Eighth: Bandages, Gossip, and Ballads

The crowd in Anvard's courtyard began to disperse and resume their business. Galen stood marveling at what had just transpired, still holding the sheathed sword in his hand. Nothing he had ever experienced in the years of hiding in Narnia's forests could compare.

"Well done, young one," Aiolos said, pride evident in his voice.

"Thanks, Aiolos," Galen said with a smile.

"You do have a way for getting yourself into trouble," Aiolos said, and Galen chuckled with him. "I think the king wishes to speak to you," Aiolos spoke softly, nudging his young companion.

"Sir Galen," King Lorn began, clasping Galen's arm, "such happenings could not have been of evil designs. I no longer hold reservations concerning the truth of your tale and identity. You have proved your mettle to both me and the whole of Archenland. Once again Archenland will stand with Narnia and aid you as we are able."

"It is an honor to accept Archenland's aid," Galen replied, inclining his head and grasping the king's arm in return.

The solemn grip of a sealed agreement turned into a grip to counter gravity as the weakened knight's legs failed him for a moment and Galen again began to feel the throbbing reminders that the black knight had been no phantom. With the king's assistance Galen regained his footing.

"Come, sir. Your injuries must be treated," Princess Lyra admonished before turning to King Lorn. "Father, by your leave?"

"Of course, Lyra. Take him to the healer's wing with no further delay," Lorn replied as a page hurried up to the inform him of some business that needed his attention.

Lyra led Galen back into the castle and up the central staircase. A little ways up the staircase Galen stumbled and caught himself on the railing. Lyra turned back and helped him up.

"Thank you, m'lady, but I am capable of walking on my own," Galen protested.

"Alright, then, carry on," Lyra replied, turning away and continuing up the steps.

"Blast!"

The softly uttered exclamation caused a knowing smile to pass quickly across Lyra's face. She turned around again and descended a few steps to where Galen was once again holding onto the railing.

"Now will you accept my assistance, sir?"

Galen grudgingly nodded. Lyra placed her hand firmly around Galen's arm and helped him up the stairs and into the corridor. A few minutes later the two turned down another corridor and progressed into the southern wing of the castle. After passing through a stone archway into a large room with many cots, Lyra turned and led Galen into a smaller room and helped him sit on the white-clothed cot that stood on one side. She then turned to the various shelves lining the walls and laid out an assortment of bandages and bottles along with a pitcher and a bowl on the empty shelf beside the bed. Galen sat, unmoving, and observed. Lyra finished and pulled a low stool next to the bed before turning back to him.

"Here, let me help you with the tabard."

"That's alright," Galen replied, gingerly removing the now rather ragged green tabard. Lyra took the tabard from him and instructed Galen to get rid of the shirt and lay down while she filled the pitcher with water from the hand pump in the corner.

"Oh," was all Galen could muster. Lyra turned to face him and looked him in the eye.

"Sir Galen, I am not a tittering tarkheena who faints at seeing a drop of blood. I have tended Archenland's wounded soldiers for quite some time and have seen far worse upon my country's battlefields. If you would rather treat your injuries yourself, you have but to say the word and I will leave you to it."

Galen, quite cowed, did as she instructed.

Lyra sat down and peeled away the old bandage, then took stock of what needed mending. She picked up a clean cloth and dipped it in some cool water. After wringing it out, Lyra gently began to wipe the blood from Galen's back.

"Aslan smiled upon you this day, Sir Galen. The gash left by the black knight's sword is not kind, but neither is it deep enough to cause worry."

Lyra paused to wet a fresh cloth, then continued working. After a few minutes, she picked up another cloth and a red glass bottle from the shelf beside her.

"I must warn you, Sir Galen, this will cause you a fair amount of pain."

"I understand, m'lady," he replied.

Lyra opened the bottle and poured some of its contents onto Galen's wounded back.

A soft hiss escaped Galen's clenched teeth.

"I am sorry, but there is no other way to ensure that your wounds are properly treated," Lyra spoke sincerely as she gently pressed a cloth to Galen's still-bleeding back.

"No need to apologize, Lady," Galen replied tersely.

Lyra instructed Galen to sit up so she could properly bandage his wounds. As she wrapped the bandages around his torso, Lyra noticed Galen take a sharp breath.

"Is anything else the matter, sir?"

"Nothing significant, m'lady," Galen replied. Lyra arched an eyebrow, frowning slightly.

"The black knight gave you quite a kick earlier, and your side is taking on a decidedly purple tone. Does breathing cause you pain?"

"Well…"

"Answer me directly."

"Yes."

"I see. You probably have bruised a rib or two. There is little I can do for such an injury. It will heal with time."

After finishing with the bandages, Lyra moved on to tend Galen's shoulder and other wounds.

"Where do you suppose that Thing came from, sir?" Lyra asked as she worked.

"I do not know, m'lady."

"Such curious goings-on. I daresay that word will spread throughout the whole of Archenland within two day's time," Lyra remarked. Galen chuckled slightly, but did not reply.

"Think you any more knights like that one will appear?"

"I certainly hope not, Lady. One was more than sufficient."

"Indeed," Lyra smiled.

* * *

Once finished, Lyra stood and returned her assorted bottles to their proper places, then tossed the once-clean cloths along with Galen's ruined shirt and tabard into a hamper in the corner.

"If you will kindly wait here, sir, I will retrieve you a fresh shirt."

"I would very much appreciate that, m'lady."

Lyra left the room and returned a few minutes later with a clean linen shirt, which she handed to Galen. She also handed him another sling, which, despite Galen's protests, Lyra insisted that he wear.

After donning the article of clothing, Galen stood and gingerly bowed.

"I owe you my thanks once again, Your Highness."

"You are most welcome, Sir," Lyra replied, inclining her head. "If you feel well enough, I will show you back to your room."

"I am feeling much improved, and I will appreciate your kind guidance. I am afraid these corridors are far from familiar."

* * *

Galen spent the rest of the afternoon resting as Lyra instructed (the breaking of which carried the dire consequence of restriction to bread and broth for a week). As the shadows began to lengthen, a knock sounded at the door. Galen was sitting in the armchair by the fire and ruminating on the happenings of the day. He got up and opened the door to reveal Princess Lyra standing outside in the corridor with a young man a few years older than she.

"Good evening, Sir Galen," she greeted. "I trust I will not have to instruct the cooks with respect to your meals."

"No, m'lady, that will be unnecessary."

"Good," Lyra replied, smiling. "May I introduce my elder brother Prince Ayden."

"A pleasure to meet you sir," Galen replied, inclining his head.

"The pleasure is mine, sir. Lyra and I were passing by on our way to supper and would be honored if you would care to join us."

"Thank you, Prince Ayden. I believe I can muster a hearty appetite indeed."

Galen followed Lyra and Ayden through the corridors and down another staircase. There they turned a corner and entered Anvard's great hall. A sturdy, well polished table stretched a good length of the hall, and was filled with a feast the likes of which Galen had never seen. All sorts of meats, fruits, pies, and a hundred other things covered the table. The lords and ladies of the court sat around the table eating and talking merrily, and the sweet strains of a harp reached Galen's ears above the chatter. The king and queen sat at the far end, and Ayden and Lyra took seats beside them. Ayden motioned for Galen to have a seat next to him.

"Good evening, Sir Galen!" King Lorn greeted him. "I trust you are feeling better?"

"Very much so, Sir. My compliments for your well-set table. Never have I seen such bounty," Galen replied.

"Please," said the queen, motioning to the food in front of them, "do not hesitate to eat whatever you wish."

"Thank you, m'lady," Galen replied and began to do so. A moment or two later a servant in green livery offered him several rolls of the most delicious smelling bread Galen had ever seen.

As everyone ate, the hum of voices continued, and soon it became apparent to Galen that his morning's adventure dominated the conversations (although talk of the Duke of Winding Arrow's wedding to Lady Miranda ran a close second).

"What was the meaning of the phantom knight, Sir Galen?" A dark haired lady clothed in purple and silver inquired.

"Of that I am not altogether sure, my lady," Galen replied. "From the inscription on the stone and blade I can surmise that it was a test concerning the matter that brings me to Archenland."

"What matter would that be, sir, if I may be so bold?"

The hum of voices lowered, and Galen noticed a great many eyes fixed upon him.

"That, my lady, is a rather a dull tale."

"I am sure you underestimate the your story, sir," Prince Ayden interjected. "Would you do us the honor of telling it?"

Galen thought a moment, and decided that it need not remain secret.

"If you will bear with me for a little while, good sirs and ladies all, I shall endeavor to keep from boring you."

The chatter turned to laughter to a moment, then subsided as everyone in the hall listened intently.

"On the ill-fated day when Castle Cair Paravel fell to the Telmarines, my grandfather was one of the few who escaped alive. He was a knight of Narnia's Order of the Lion's Redemption, as am I. 'Twas he who took and safeguarded the Stone Knife that day and every day after until he was slain by Telmarine soldiers. I have vowed to take the Stone Knife to safety, away from the Telmarines' reach. Several days ago I left the Shuddering Wood with the blessing of those Narnians who remain, the Stone Knife in my keeping. Aiolos, my companion, guide, and friend, traveled through the southern countryside until we reached the fortified border town of Southton. There we became trapped, cut off from the Southern Pass. The Telmarines captured us briefly, but we were able to break free and flee. Aslan showed us the way to escape, and we made it to the mountains largely unscathed. From there it was a simple matter to cross the mountains and find the gracious hospitality of Anvard."

The hall rustled with whispers as he finished.

"You mean you have brought the Stone Knife with you? It is here?" a young lord asked, wide-eyed.

"Yes."

Exclamations of surprise and awe filled the hall.

"Was the phantom going to try to steal it?" a lady in blue asked.

"I do not know."

"Come!" King Lorn interrupted. "Let us leave Sir Galen a moment's peace. He has entertained us with a tale, now let us return the favor with one of our own. Good minstrel, strike up a cheery ballad!"

The bright notes of a lyre filled the air, and several brightly colored minstrels began to sing of the tale of Fair Olvin and Lady Liln.**

"_In the olden days of Archenland_

_There lived a prince named Olvin the Fair…"_

After the ballad and another had finished, Galen excused himself and began to walk along the parapet in the fresh air. Galen found himself staring into the deep hues of the Eastern sky painted by the sun set. Aravir shone brightly beside the sliver of a moon and the green forest below began to become dark. Galen leaned against the wall and breathed the cooling air in deeply, musing on a hundred things and nothing. After a little while, he heard light footsteps behind beside him, and a white flowing sleeve caught the corner of Galen's eye. Princess Lyra stood beside him and joined him in gazing at the horizon.

"What do you think of Archenland?" Lyra inquired after a moment.

"I think Archenland is a beautiful country, m'lady," Galen replied. 'Tis its freedom, I suppose, that makes it so," he added quietly.

"Indeed?"

"Narnia is a lovely land, but she is darkened by the evil of iron-fisted oppression. Her forests no longer dance, her rivers no longer sing," Galen sighed.

"Have the Telmarines destroyed so much of the land?"

"Narnia's land still retains its aesthetic beauty, yes, but her spirit trembles and cowers. She is silent and held fast in the bitter tortures of slavery. Nay, Princess Lyra, 'tis Liberty that brings a country its beauty, and my heart aches for what Narnia has lost."

"How sad indeed," Lyra softly remarked, averting her eyes to the stonework upon which she leaned. "Why do not all the Narnians come to Archenland? Freedom have we here in plenty," Lyra asked after a moment.

"The remaining Narnians will not abandon their country. Indeed, but for a promise I would gladly stay and fight beside them."

"The Knife?"

"Yes. I promised my father I would take it where it would be safe, and there protect it for all my days."

"Then be of good cheer, sir. You have kept your promise, and so will your Archen brothers keep our promise of sanctuary to you."

"What, then, was the adventure of this morning? What purpose did it serve?"

"Perhaps the phantom was sent by Aslan to convince my parents of the truth of your words by giving you a chance to prove yourself."

"Perhaps," Galen replied quietly. "Perhaps not."

Lyra looked at him inquiringly. Galen drew the sword that hung by his side and showed the flat to Lyra.

"Do you see this inscription, m'lady?"

"Yes, but I cannot read it."

"It is in the ancient Narnian language. It speaks of Narnia's fall to the Telmarines and of my duty as the last of my Order.

"_In trials begins an ancient Quest…"_

I do not think that I have completed my task, m'lady. I believe my adventure is only just beginning."

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**I have my rendition of the entire ballad of Fair Olvin and Lady Liln published as a separate story that you can find under my profile.

Thank you for reading. Please review!


	10. Chapter the ninth: A Storm Afoot

Author's Note: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, dear readers! Here is the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it.

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Chapter the Ninth: A Storm Afoot

_30 Lenisgale 2075_ _Conqueror's Castle, Beaversdam, Narnia_

The morning dawned cold, the sun hiding behind a shroud of dark grey clouds. A tall, armor-clad Telmarine on a dark mount approached the guardhouse of the castle built by Caspian I. He was accompanied by a half dozen men-at-arms. The black flag with a white saber fluttered in the inconstant wind on the highest turret as Commander Despiado entered the castle. Several days' travel worth of dust clung to the Telmarine warrior's dark cloak, and his boots had lost their polish under splatters of mud. He swung out of the saddle and handed the reins of his horse to one of his subordinates. The guards standing on either side of the entrance to the castle keep straightened as Despiado entered. He strode purposefully through the corridors and up a flight of stairs until he reached a strong wooden door. Despiado knocked forcefully, and a moment later it was opened by a man with greying hair and an immaculate navy tunic trimmed in silver.

"Ah, Despiado, my friend! You look exhausted. Come, sit down by the fire," the man addressed, then called for his servant to bring coffee. He lead his friend to the fireplace and indicated a comfortable-looking arm chair.

"Thank you, General Aleixo. It is good to see you," Despiado replied. A slight wince passed across his face briefly as he eased himself into the chair. Aleixo leaned forward in concern.

"Your dispatch said nothing of you being wounded, but I know you well enough to know that it takes a great deal to cause you to show pain. I will have Bento fetch a medic for you as soon as he brings our coffee."

"No need, sir. My wound has been well tended and will heal soon enough. I bring troubling news that requires your attention. I do not know what to make of the last few days' happenings," Despiado returned. A moment later the General's servant Bento returned with the aforementioned beverage. Despiado took a long sip and sighed a tired but contented sigh.

"Tell me of these happenings, Despiado," Aleixo said, curious as to what threat would prompt such a reaction from his stalwart one-time pupil.

"Three days ago the southern countryside was rife with frightened farmers reporting sightings of what they called a 'hooded spectre.' I did not believe that a ghost was roaming about the countryside, but with each report I tracked the course of this so-called spectre. It became clear that the Thing was headed for Southton, and I took half my garrison to trap it in the city. Late that night we succeeded in capturing the "spectre"-it was naught but a boy in a dark cloak riding a dark horse."

"Why should a boy warrant such an urgent dispatch from your hand?"

"This was no ordinary Telmarine boy, general. His eyes and manner were not those of a person accustomed to servitude. He carried an old Narnian sword and had a defiant spirit that I have not seen in any Telmarine. It was he who injured me in escaping my interrogation. I do not know how he found his way out of the city, but he escaped and made for the old mountain pass toward Archenland with my bolt in his back."

"Good. If you wounded him there is little to worry about. He probably did not make it through the mountains."

"I beg to differ, sir. His wound was not so life threatening that it would prevent him from reaching aid in Archenland."

"What do you think this boy was doing in Telmar's territory?"

"I has pondered that question at length, and it is my opinion that he was a spy sent from Archenland to gather information. Perhaps he is a descendant of a Narnian who escaped into Archenland when King Caspian the Conqueror took this land and has an old grudge to settle. He does not seem experienced enough to be a professional assassin, but his presence could indicate a much larger plot afoot. Archenland may be planning an invasion," Despiado continued. Aleixo looked troubled.

"You were correct in bringing this to my attention. It may well be as you say. I will take this to King Caspian. Meanwhile, please rest yourself while you can."

General Aleixo left the chamber and made for the dining hall where King Caspian was eating lunch. The general approached and bowed.

"I beg your pardon, my liege, but one of my most trusted commanders has brought troubling tidings. By your leave, I suggest that your majesty convene the Council of Lords as soon as possible."

* * *

"This council will come to order!" King Caspian bellowed above the chatter of his advisors. The lords took hushed immediately.

"General Aleixo has informed me that Archenland may be planning an invasion."

"We must fortify the border!" One exclaimed.

"What if there is no threat? Archenland has never attacked before," another countered. Bickering of this sort continued for several minutes.

"I did not call you here to debate responses but to debate tactics. We will attack Archenland before they can attack us."

"Your majesty?" another lord asked, puzzled.

"My grandfather stopped at the Southern Mountains. Why should I leave his work unfinished? Regardless of whether or not Archenland plans to attack us, why should we forbear from adding her to our dominion?"

"Well,…" one lord began, but Caspian cut him off.

"Do not argue with me, Lord Bernardino. We will invade and conquer Archenland and add their wealth to Our coffers, their land to Our borders, and crush their people until they cower like mice!"

* * *

_7 Quickening 2075 Forest near Anvard, Archenland. _

Galen sat atop Aiolos, who cantered next to Lyra's palomino mare and Ayden's bay charger. It had been a week since the two Narnians had come to Archenland, and Galen was recovering nicely. The Archenlanders were showing Galen and Aiolos the royal forest surrounding Anvard on this sunny spring afternoon. The flowers were peeking out for the first time-daffodils and tulips in all their colorful glory. A breeze rustled the bright green leaves and carried the humans' laughter. This day was the sort of day that made anyone want to laugh from the sheer joy of it.

"I cannot think of a time that I have had more fun!" Galen exclaimed.

"Really?" Prince Ayden asked. Galen nodded.

The pair of Archenlanders had noticed that Galen was ever watchful of their surroundings, and looked sharply at all noises from the forest around them.

"Does aught trouble you, Sir Galen?" Princess Lyra inquired.

"Nay, m'lady. I am afraid that I cannot easily put eighteen years of habit behind me. To live in Narnia was to live in hiding under constant threat. Acute observation and stealth were often the only things, save Aslan, that stood between life and death, and I am afraid they have become ingrained into me," Galen replied.

"I cannot fathom living in such a manner, Sir Galen," Ayden remarked, shaking his head.

"I cannot fathom living here, in a place where one does not have to worry that a Telmarine bolt awaits him from behind the next tree. It is so beautiful here! I do not think I have ever felt so content."

"I am glad, Sir Galen," Lyra replied. "Here, we are almost back at the castle! Shall we race?"

"Hardly seems fair to your poor little horses, but if you insist, m'lady, I'm happy to oblige you!" Aiolos replied, breaking out in a swift gallop towards Anvard, with Galen holding on for dear life. Lyra and Ayden were not far behind, but Aiolos and Galen reached Anvard's gates first. Galen dismounted and almost collapsed from laughing-an affliction that soon struck the two Archenlanders as well.

The three humans stabled the horses (Aiolos was ready for an afternoon snack), and were about to return to the castle for tea when Galen noticed three new horses in the stable. His face grew serious, and he paused by the stalls.

"Is aught the matter, Sir Galen?" Lyra asked.

"These horses-they bear equipment of Telmarine design and insignia," Galen replied quietly. Galen turned and rushed from the stable without another word.

The Narnian entered the castle keep and made for the Great Hall. Lyra and Ayden followed him. Galen took a more circuitous route, and entered the Hall quietly from behind the thrones.

Three Telmarines stood before the Archen king and queen. Two stood behind as attendants as the leader proposed a treaty between Telmar and Archenland to allow for the lifting of Archenland's trade embargo that had been in place since the Telmarines conquered Narnia and an ensuring of peace and non-aggression between the two countries.

Galen listened to the exchange quietly, but each moment his countenance grew darker. The Telmarine diplomat finished his presentation and the king adjourned court for the day with the promise of opening treaty negotiations in the morning. As the Telmarines turned to leave the Hall, Galen caught the eye of the lead Telmarine and their eyes met for a moment. The Telmarine turned and continued walking as though nothing had happened, but "nothing" was far from the truth.

Galen approached the king and queen as soon as the Telmarines left the room and half bowed.

"Your majesties, I must talk with you on a matter most urgent."

"Of course, Sir Galen. You are aware of the recent goings-on?"

"It is of these happening that I must speak."

The king and queen left the Great Hall and lead Galen to the Parliament chamber*.

"Parliament will not be in session again until next week, so we may speak here," Queen Laila said.

"Your majesties, I must emphatically caution you against making any treaty with Telmar."

"The Telmarines are our enemies, but could we not benefit from assured peace?"

"Nay, m'lady. You must not believe them. That Telmarine is no diplomat. He is a skilled military commander and the very man from whom I barely escaped with my life. The Telmarines do not plan peace, of this I can assure you."

"Sir Galen is right," King Lorn agreed. "Telmarines are treacherous and would not hesitate to stab Archenland in the back even as we bargained for peace, just as they did to my father."

"I will dispatch scouts to the outposts on Mt. Stormness, Mt. Pire, and Mt. Argyros," Laila declared. "If the Telmarines are up to something we will know it before they are within striking distance of Anvard."

* * *

_9 Quickening 2075_

Galen stood atop the parapet with Ayden as the sun set behind the western mountains. As they watched, a rider approached the castle. The two hurried down to the courtyard, where the breathless messenger dismounted and hurried to meet Prince Ayden.

"What is the matter, sir?" Ayden inquired.

"Telmarines! They are marshaling an army north of the mountains. They will be here in two days' time."

Ayden bade the messenger give his message to King Lorn, and then began barking instructions.

"Ring the bells! Everyone in the surrounding villages must be within these walls by tomorrow evening if they wish protection! Begin preparations for a siege! Pages, find all the generals of the War Council and have them meet in the Tactical Chamber within the hour!"

The castle suddenly began to bustle with activity, and in a few minutes deep bell tolls reverberated through the cool evening air.

"Guards," Ayden motioned to a group of five castle soldiers, "accompany me to the chamber of our Telmarine visitors. Sir Galen, I would appreciate if you would come as well."

"Of course."

Ayden, Galen, and the soldiers made their way to the guest wing where the Telmarines were quartered. The Archen prince motioned for Galen and the soldiers to stand flat against the wall out of sight of anyone inside the room. Ayden pounded on the door, and a moment later "Ambassador" Despiado opened the door.

"Good sir," Ayden began, "The king and queen request the honor of your lordship's presence at supper tonight. If you and your attendants will come with me, I will be happy to escort you."

"We are honored, Prince Ayden," Despiado replied, a clever look in his eyes. The meaning of the castle bells had not been lost on him, and his warrior's sense knew that Ayden was not alone. Nevertheless, Despiado and his two men-at-arms exited the chamber. As soon as they were in the corridor, Galen, Ayden, and the Archen soldiers drew their swords and surrounded the Telmarines.

"Ambassador Despiado, you and your men are under arrest for espionage and treachery against the Archen crown. Accompany my men peaceably and you will not be harmed. Resist and we will do what we must."

"Of course, your highness," Despiado replied with a bow, nonplussed.

Ayden and the guards herded the Telmarines down the main staircase and through a busy corridor. A hush fell over the bustling people as they passed through the Great Hall as the group passed.

"What is going on, brother?" Lyra asked as she ran out of a connecting corridor.

"Sir Galen," Ayden said by way of reply, "of your courtesy inform King Lorn of these goings-on." Ayden continued on his course, unwavering, toward the dungeons.

Galen promptly dropped behind the group, sheathed his sword, and joined Lyra.

"Sir Galen, what mischief is afoot?"

"The Telmarines are amassing an army north of Mt. Argyros. The supposed ambassador is a strong and clever Telmarine commander, no doubt dispatched as a spy to assess Anvard's strengths and weaknesses under the guise of friendship. Where are the king and queen, m'lady?"

"Come, I will help you find them." Lyra lead Galen up a secondary staircase and towards the Tactical Chamber. As they approached the door to the chamber they encountered King Lorn and Queen Laila approaching the same. Lyra and Galen informed them of Ayden's preparations.

"A grim matter indeed," King Lorn agreed. "We will deal with our Telmarine guests when we have finished meeting with the War Council."

The king and queen entered the chamber, leaving Lyra and Galen outside.

"Sir Galen, if you wish something to do I could use help preparing the healers."

"Of course, m'lady."

* * *

Later that evening when Galen was finishing helping Lyra in the healer's wing, a page came with summons for Galen to accompany King Lorn and Prince Ayden to the dungeons. Lyra decided to come with them since the healers' wing was well prepared. The pair made their way to the dungeon where Ayden and Lorn were already questioning the trio of Telmarines.

"I am an ambassador of peace, your majesty," Despiado was saying as Galen and Lyra entered.

"Of course. That is why there is an army a thousand strong gathering on our border," Ayden countered.

"We have evidence that you are not an ambassador," King Lorn retorted, and Despiado glanced at Galen. "What did you intend to gain by coming here, sir?" Lorn inquired.

"Your majesty," Despiado stood up and moved near the bars. "I am sure you would not want to see her-" he motioned towards Lyra-"lovely cheek bloodied."

Ayden quickly stepped in front of his sister. "She is none of your concern!"

"What do you mean, sir?" Lyra asked, stepping around her brother.

"I meant, my lady, that Telmar thoroughly destroys all who stand in her way, no matter how innocent they may be. However, if Archenland were to capitulate without resistance, Telmar traditionally allows such countries to retain their culture and traditions under the authority of the Telmar King."

"Archenland will never surrender. We would rather fight until the last of us has fallen," Lyra replied, eyes flashing.

"As Narnia did?" Despiado countered, and Galen inadvertently grasped his sword hilt.

"Well, it is of no consequence which decision you make, your majesty. However, I and my men surrendered peaceably to you under a flag of truce with the understanding that we would be granted safe passage."

King Lorn sighed.

"You are correct. You surrendered under a flag of truce."

"Father, we cannot let them go!" Ayden protested.

"It does not matter what he is or what his intentions, Ayden. I granted him safe passage and I cannot honorably refuse him what I have promised."

"Thank you, your majesty. We may be enemies, but you are a man of your word."

"We will not harm you or your men, but will only release you after the Telmarine forces have been dealt with."

"Of course," Despiado replied, and the Archenlanders left up the stairs.

"_Their honor will be their undoing," _Despiado thought as they departed. He leaned back against the wall and smiled slightly. All was going according to plan.

* * *

*I don't really know why, but I felt rather like making Archenland a Parliamentary Monarchy like England during the reign of Queen Elizabeth. They were descendants of British citizens after all.

The new names are portuguese in origin, but their meanings are unimportant.

Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think!


	11. Chapter 10: Third Battle of Mt Argyros

Author's Note: Not so long as last time, at least! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Narnia is not mine, but all characters not recognized from the books or movies (which are most of them) are mine.

* * *

Chapter the Tenth: The Third Battle of Mount Argyros

_9 Quickening 2075, 11:00 pm_

Galen looked out of the arrow-slit window over the Anvard courtyard. Despite the late hour, the castle was abuzz with activity. A steady stream of people came in the gate from the many villages around Anvard. Soldiers hurried to and fro on the parapet, stocking arrows and reinforcing stonework. Others bustled in and out of the castle carrying foodstuffs and other parcels. The castle sat over an aquifer, so they did not need to worry about running out of water in the event of a siege, but maintaining a good supply of food and arrows was the primary concern. Galen pulled himself away from the window and turned his attention to the discussion taking place in the Tactical Chamber.

"The Telmarine army is heading for Mount Argyros and the Southern Pass. They bear the standards of the Glasswater, Beaversdam, and Southton garrisons," the scout who had brought the news was explaining, pointing out the positions on the large map that hung on the wall. The scout wore dark breeches and an Archen green tunic and still had his quiver and bow slung over his shoulder.

"General Astrophel, what would you make of this?" King Lorn asked Anvard's master tactician and chess champion.

"The Telmarines seem to be using the same strategy as the first Telmarine invaders did seventy five years ago. I do not believe that the Telmarines would try to cross over via the Stormness Pass. It is far too narrow and treacherous, especially at this time of the year when the snows are just in the process of melting. Mt. Pire has no pass, and its mountain system is far too tight and steep for an army, especially for the tightly structured ranks of Telmarine cavalry and infantry. The Argyros Pass is one of the few passes through the mountains usable to an army, and as you know, my liege, Anvard holds a strategic position over the mountain valleys into which the Argyros Pass leads. According to our good scouts, the Telmarines are marching towards the Argyros Pass. The first time they attempted this the Telmarines did not make it to the Pass, and were defeated before they could set foot around the mountain. I do not think that a traditional attack north of the Pass would be effective in this case, however. The Telmarine Army will have to be reduced to a single column in order to navigate the Pass, a weakness we can easily exploit."

"I agree, your majesty," General Finnian, an almost retired warrior with silver hair and blue eyes, added. "The Telmarine army will have to climb the foothills on the Narnian side first, but the path narrows until here," he pointed at the map, "as it climbs towards Mt. Argyros. There is a point at which the path cuts through a little shale valley. It would not allow more than a column or two to enter at a time, and the steep walls provide the perfect setting for an ambush. We could to hide there and let them come to us until they are trapped."

"An excellent plan, good sirs," King Lorn agreed. "How many men can we muster?"

"Five hundred can be ready to leave by dawn," General Riordan, a comparatively young man with brown hair and steady hazel eyes, answered, and King Lorn nodded his approval.

"King Lorn," Galen interjected. "If I may suggest, perhaps a number of troops should be kept in reserve to protect Anvard in the event that the Telmarines have some sort of trickery in mind."

"What sort of trickery?" General Astrophel inquired.

"When I was growing up in the Shuddering Wood, Telmarine patrols had a habit of executing multi-fronted, coordinated attacks designed to distract and surround their enemy. These became ineffective because Narnians take to the tree tops, but it is this sort of method that Telmarines love to use."

"In any other case I would agree with you, young sir," Astrophel replied. "However, the Telmarines must pass through this valley, and there are no other passes that we know of that are capable of handling an army of this size."

"Indeed, I must agree with General Astrophel," General Riordan said. "Mt. Stormness is too small, and Mt. Pire is impassable. The shale valleys are surrounded with rocky hills that cannot support large infantry columns or the siege mechanisms of which Telmarines are so fond."

"With my thanks to our Narnian friend, consider the matter settled," King Lorn interjected decisively. "We depart at dawn."

* * *

_10 Quickening 2075_

As the early morning sky began to pale and herald the sun's advance, the main Archen army prepared to depart. King Lorn, now fully armed and mounted on his brown war horse, reviewed the main cavalry column composed of Archenland's finest knights. Accompanying the two hundred knights were three hundred archers: two hundred longbows and one hundred mounted recurves. Galen stood on the parapet and watched as the columns formed and awaited the king. In the courtyard below, Lyra and Ayden bade farewell to their parents, and Galen noted with surprise that Queen Laila was mounted on a bay charger beside King Lorn. She wore chain mail and a green tabard and carried a recurve bow and a quiver of grey-feathered arrows. After a few moments, both king and queen cued their mounts to canter. King Lorn took lead of the cavalry column while Queen Laila lead the archers. The deep sound of a horn reached Galen's ears, and the columns sprung forward. In a little while, Lyra and Ayden joined Galen on the parapet and watched until the columns were out of sight.

"I was a trifle surprised that the queen accompanies the army to battle," Galen remarked.

"Mother has always fought by father's side. 'Tis a thing she will not change," Ayden answered.

"Besides," Lyra added with a chuckle, "mother will not entrust father to the care of any other healer."

The first of the sun's rays escaped the horizon and illuminated Anvard's towers, and Ayden left to take care of other matters.

"What do we do now?" Galen asked Lyra, who continued to stare at the painted eastern horizon.

"Pray."

* * *

_11 Quickening 2075, somewhere near Mt. Argyros, Narnia._

The Archen army navigated the Argyros Pass and arrived at the shale valley in the early morning hours as the stars still twinkled in the indigo sky. By the king's order no fires were lit, but he did permit pavilions to be pitched behind a nearby hill. The valley's sides were blanketed in trees and dusted with the lightest touch of snow. As morning dawned, King Lorn ordered the archers into position. The longbowmen perched in almost every tree along the sides of the little valley, while the cavalry and mounted archers kept out of sight at the south end.

An hour after dawn the tramp of a multitude of feet reached the ears of the concealed Archenlanders. The standards became visible, one by one, as the Telmarine army turned into the valley. The land seemed to hold its breath as the column progressed down the valley. The first infantry column, followed by a column of cavalry and a second infantry column fully entered the valley before the king gave the signal. A high whistle pierced the air, and two hundred grey-fletched arrows gave answer.

* * *

_12 Quickening 2075, Anvard, Archenland_

The second morning since the troops had departed Anvard dawned with a blaze of crimson before the sun hid behind a mantle of clouds. Anvard remained hushed and uneasy. Lyra stood on the top of the north east turret, fitful gusts of wind tousling her hair and rustling the sleeves of her blue dress. Lyra took a deep breath of the moisture-laden air and looked up at the snowy peak of Mt. Argyros. As she uttered a silent prayer, Lyra noticed a hawk circling above. Taking a telescope from her pouch, she focused on the bird, and, recognizing it, hurried down the stairs to the nearest guard.

"Quickly, your gauntlet of your courtesy!"

The guard removed his leather glove and handed it to her.

"Thank you. Please tell the falconer to make haste to this turret!"

The guard hurried off in search of the falconer, and Lyra, glove in hand, ascended to the top of the turret again. The hawk still circled above the castle, and Lyra pulled on the glove and held out her arm. The bird swooped down and alighted on Lyra's arm.

"Vega! 'Tis good to see you my little friend. I hope you bring good tidings." Lyra stroked the bird's feathers, then untied the tiny pouch fastened the the hawk's leg. Vega remained on her mistress's arm as Lyra descended the turret stairs. A moment or two later the falconer came bustling down the corridor, and Lyra handed her hawk to him with instructions to make sure she was well taken care of.

Lyra hurried to the kitchens, where she knew her brother would be this early of a morning. As she suspected, Ayden and Galen were sitting at a table in the corner of the kitchens eating some very tasty looking biscuits.

"Good morn, my lady," Galen greeted.

"Is something amiss, sister?" Ayden inquired as Lyra joined them at the table.

"I hope not, brother. Vega returned bearing a message," Lyra replied as she opened the tiny pouch.

"Who is Vega?" Galen asked.

"My goshawk. Father always takes her with him to battle because she will always return to me, so she can be used to carry messages. Here we are: "Ambush successful. Telmarines in retreat except Glasswater Garrison. Two days' delay at most.""

"Wonderful!" Ayden exclaimed. "We can allow everyone to return home now that there is no threat."

"You might want to refrain from giving that order quite yet," Galen, who was looking out the window, cautioned. The other two looked out as well to see a single rider entering the castle courtyard.

"I'm sure it is nothing to cause alarm," Lyra remarked, although the three hurried to the courtyard nevertheless.

Once in the courtyard, they were met by an exhausted looking soldier leading a very tired horse. The soldier's boots and cloak were covered in dust and mud and his face carried several bruises and scrapes. The Archen standard was almost unrecognizable on his tunic, and beneath the dirt one would imagine his hair to be brown.

"What has transpired, good sir?" Lyra inquired.

"Telmarine cavalry, my lady. You must secure Anvard."

"How? We just received word that the battle goes well near Mt. Argyros."

"Of that I know not, Prince Ayden. I was the only one to escape the outpost on Stormness Head. The Telmarine Royal Guards have crossed the mountains via Stormness Pass and will be upon Anvard within two hours' time. Of this you may be assured."

"You have our deepest gratitude, good sir, for your prompt warning," Lyra said. The soldier bowed and Lyra instructed one of the servants to see to his comfort.

"Telmarine treachery knows no bounds," Galen observed quietly.

"A thing we would have been wise to heed earlier," Ayden acknowledged. "Sir Galen, if you wish, you and Aiolos may make haste for the sea. Should Anvard fall, you would be able to escape to one of the islands and continue to safeguard the Stone Knife."

"Nay, good sir. Aslan will protect this city. I shall run no more."

"Good. Then let us meet these Telmarines with every ounce of strength we can muster."

* * *

The green flags of Archenland snapped furiously in the wind, only to hang limp a moment later until the next gust of wind unfurled them. Above the castle the sky was covered in a thick mantle of grey clouds that scurried along as if they had minds of their own. The stout oak gate was closed tightly and the parapet was lined with archers, their longbows bent. Galen stood on the northeast turret with a telescope, his eyes ever on the watch for the Telmarine Royal Guards. He now wore chain mail and a hauberk, over which he wore his grandfather's tabard. On his back was a quiver of arrows, and his good bow leaned next to him on the turret wall. The belt around his waist held two swords: his grandfather's and the one Aslan had given him in the marble stone a week and half before. Ayden and Lyra stood in the middle of the east parapet. Ayden wore chain mail and a hauberk much like Galen's except for his green tabard. Lyra wore a chain mail shirt, leather bracers, and a leather cuirass stamped with the golden Archen gryphon. Her hair was pulled back in a braid and she wore trousers and leather boots instead of her usual skirts. Both Ayden and Lyra held bows and full quivers as well. Ayden took a deep breath and turned towards the rest of the castle.

"Warriors of Archenland," he began, "The Telmarines whom we defeated those many years ago have once again set their swords towards Archenland. As I speak their soldiers are headed for this castle with the intention of subjecting Archenland to Telmar's hand of conquest. I daresay that holding them back will be far from easy, but let us make this our finest hour. I do not presume to speak for us all, but as for myself, while there is yet breath left in my body I will not allow this banner," he pointed to the flag waving on the turrets above them, "to be torn from Anvard's battlements!"

Before he could continue, the castle erupted in a chorus of voices shouting their agreement.

"Prince Ayden!" Galen's voice sounded from the turret. "They are here!"

"Then may Aslan look upon us with favor, and may our arrows be swift and sure. For Archenland and Liberty!"

With this the defenders of Anvard nocked their arrows and turned to look outside the walls. To the northeast a band of horsemen with Telmarine standards suddenly charged out of a valley. The horsemen continued to pour from the mountains but found Anvard's gates closed. Ayden gave the order to fire, and a multitude of Archen arrows whizzed through the air to strike many of the Telmarine invaders. The rest of the Telmarines raised their shields and retreated to the safety of the trees. The thundering of hooves could be heard through the trees, and in a little while a group of Telmarines came out from the protection of the tree line carrying a battering ram. Horsemen surrounded it with shields to protect its bearers as they advanced toward Anvard's gates. Lyra pulled her bowstring back to her ear, and the arrow jumped into the air. One of the horses abruptly jumped and fell beneath its rider, and the other archers followed Lyra's lead. In a moment all twelve horsemen were no longer mounted, which provided clear shots to the battering ram. However, they had reached the gate with it and Anvard's gate shuddered with the first impact. Archen arrows began to whizz all around the battering ram, and several of its bearers fell to the ground. After several more strikes, the Telmarines dropped the battering ram and fled back to the trees.

Suddenly an Archen soldier cried out, a bolt in his shoulder. Other bolts began flying on the north parapet as the Telmarines took aim from the tree tops. The Archenlanders on the north wall returned fire, but could only shoot haphazardly into the trees.

"Save your arrows! We will need them later," Ayden ordered.

By this time, the Telmarines had surrounded Anvard, and now they charged out of the trees firing their crossbows. The Archenlanders let loose a barrage of arrows, which toppled many a Telmarine from his horse despite their attempts to use their shields to block the arrows. After a minute or two the Telmarines retreated either to the trees on the north side or out of longbow range below the other sides. In this position the Telmarines remained for much of the afternoon.

Inside the castle the uneasy Archenlanders tended their wounded and rested a while, but always kept watch on the besiegers. As the sun began to set, a party of Telmarines galloped away to the southwest of Anvard and a little while later a shout rang out from the southwest turret. Lyra, Ayden, Galen, and a few others hurried to the south wall and looked out across the countryside.

"There!" The sentry pointed. "They're burning the village!"

Surely enough, as the sun dipped behind the western mountains, several dark plumes of smoke rose into the air to cloud the crimson-painted sky.

The night turned dark soon enough, and the Archenlanders could see fires flickering far off near the village, as well as where the Telmarines camped just out of range of their arrows.

"We must do something!" Lyra exclaimed, pointing to the smoke.

"What can we do? They outnumber us, and we are hard-pressed to defend this castle as it is, sister."

"We must defeat them, and quickly. We cannot let them pillage Archenland as they please! Does this castle stand here for nothing?"

"Peace, my lady. We will draw the line here, but to attack senselessly will do no good and probably a great deal of harm. The Telmarines have Narnia for the time being, but they will not have Archenland, Aslan willing."

"I dearly hope you are correct, Sir Galen, but I hope you will forgive me if I cannot stand here aloof as the land I love is lain waste," Lyra replied, turning and walking quickly towards the east parapet and fastening a half-cloak around her as she went.

"She speaks the words I would love nothing more to turn to actions if I could," Ayden remarked, "but we do not have the troops to repulse a force this large. We can only hope to hold Anvard until the main Archen army returns."

* * *

The only purposeful name in this chapter is Lyra's hawk Vega, which refers to the brightest star in the constellation Lyra and is Arabic for "the swooping eagle".

Please review! Thank you for reading!


	12. Chapter 11: We Shall Do Valiantly

Author's Note: Two chapters in a day! It must be the end of the world. Okay, not really. I originally wrote this as one chapter but decided to break it into two when it started to push the six thousand word mark. Happy reading!

Disclaimer: You know the drill. Narnia does not belong to me.

* * *

Chapter the Eleventh: We Shall Do Valiantly

"_Through God we shall do valiantly: for he it is that shall tread down our enemies."-__Psalm 108:13_

_12 Quickening 2075, Anvard, Archenland._

The half moon rose some time later, its silver-white light illuminating just enough of the land for the archers to see, but eerie shadows appeared to flicker beneath the trees. Archers patrolled the parapets and the occasional owl hoot floated from the trees, but otherwise all was quiet. Inside the castle many slept, but beneath it one did not. In the dungeon Despiado's men slept, but Despiado himself stood deep in thought just behind the bars of the cell. A guard stood at the end of the corridor at the base of the stairway. At Despiado's subtle command, one of the Telmarines began to moan.

"Guard, one of my men has taken ill!"

The guard hurried over to the cell. "What is wrong with him?"

"I do not know," Despiado replied. The guard stood a moment, then began to open the door and gave instructions for Despiado and the other Telmarine to help the ill Telmarine to the healers. Despiado stepped out of the cell and moved around the guard. The other Telmarine moaned again, and the guard looked away from Despiado for a moment. As soon as he did, Despiado twisted a curious ring-a band of silver, gold, and bronze braided together with a Telmarine coat of arms-around his finger and brought his hand to the guard's neck in one swift motion, pricking the poor guard with the tiny needle concealed within the coat of arms. Almost immediately the guard crumpled to the ground without a sound. Despiado took the guard's sword and keys and then he and his men unlocked the door to the stairway and ascended to the first floor of the castle. The guard at the top of the stairs challenged the three, but the quick sword fight that ensued left the grey stone floor stained with Archen blood. Despiado's men took the guard's weapons and followed their commander down the corridor.

Despiado moved almost silently towards the throne room, which was mostly deserted except for several soldiers. Despiado and his two men hid behind the great staircase for a moment before sneaking up on the foursome. One of the soldiers whipped around, sensing someone, and called out a warning to his companions. The Archen soldiers drew their swords quickly, but one of them was not quick enough. Despiado ran him through before he could fully draw his sword, then turned to another without the slightest pause. The other three Archenlanders engaged the Telmarines in full force and stood their ground. Finally, one of the Telmarines joined the Archen soldier on the floor, and the second was not too far behind him.

The Archen soldiers turned to their comrade, who was not dead as they had feared, although he was gravely injured.

"Someone fetch a medic!" the light haired soldier shouted as he cradled his wounded friend. "You'll be alright, Donovan, just stay with me."

Ayden came running down the stairs a few moments after a soldier left to bring a medic. "What happened here?" he exclaimed, hurrying to the young injured soldier's side.

"The Telmarine prisoners escaped and attacked us, your highness," the light haired soldier replied. Ayden looked at the Telmarines laying lifeless on the ground.

"Well done, you have stopped them and whatever nefarious plan they had entertained," Ayden replied.

"Nay, my lord," Donovan gasped, clutching at Ayden's sleeve. Ayden knelt beside him and grasped the injured soldier's hand, waiting patiently for him to continue.

"There is another one, your highness," Donovan strained. "The one that wounded me slipped away in the fight. You must stop him," he continued, coughing.

"Peace, good sir," Ayden replied. "We will find him. Rest now, my friend."

* * *

Despiado did indeed slip away and leave his men to their deaths. The Telmarine commander snuck out of the keep and stealthily moved towards the guardhouse turret near the gate. He slipped inside the turret stairwell and ascended to the parapet. A soldier patrolled the parapet, but Despiado snuck behind and pricked the soldier with the ring. The soldier fell to the ground without a cry, enabling Despiado to take his torch after he tossed the now-dead Archen soldier off the parapet. Hiding in the shadow of the northeast turret, Despiado used the torch as a beacon, periodically blocking the torch's light behind the wall.

"There's the signal. Telmarines to arms!" A Telmarine commander in the encampment outside Anvard shouted, and the soldiers jumped to follow his commands.

Despiado put down the torch and remained hidden beside the guardhouse turret.

* * *

Meanwhile, Ayden called out the alarm and began a search for Despiado. Lyra stood on the east parapet above the gate, looking at the twinkling stars. Her musings were rudely disturbed as she felt a bolt speed past her ear. Quick as a wink she took her bow off her back and fitted an arrow to the string.

"The Telmarines are attacking! Soldiers of Archenland to your posts!" She shouted.

Despiado heard her call to arms, and he hid behind the door of the guardhouse as the soldiers that had been inside hurried to the parapet. As soon as the last one exited Despiado slipped inside the guardhouse before the door closed. Inside this particular turret was the mechanism by which the gate could be opened. Despiado smiled and began to put the mechanisms of the gate to work.

Outside on the east parapet, Lyra and the archers with her heard the gate begin to open.

"The gate is opening!" an archer cried in alarm, and Lyra hurried to the guardhouse, her arrow at the ready. Despiado, however, heard a hand on the door handle and promptly stood against the wall beside the door. As Lyra entered the turret, Despiado kicked her arm, causing the arrow to fly awry and the bow to drop out of her hands. Despiado quickly seized Lyra's arm, but she kicked him hard enough to make him stagger back a step and wrenched her arm out of his grasp. Despiado struck again but she blocked the blow and delivered one of her own. The Telmarine quickly retaliated, striking a blow and dazing her momentarily, which enabled him to hold her at sword point.

"I told you your pretty cheek would be bloodied if Archenland insisted on fighting, my lady."

* * *

Meanwhile, the soldiers in the courtyard started in surprise as the gate opened. Ayden and Galen, who had come outside at the alarm of attack, saw the gate opening as well.

"Get those gates closed!" Ayden yelled. Telmarine soldiers began to charge, and the Archenlanders met them at the gate.

"Why aren't those gates closing?" Ayden shouted as he slashed at one Telmarine and kicked at another. Galen was similarly occupied, but made for the parapet as soon as he could. The archers shot at the Telmarines as they approached the gate. Galen ascended to the northeast parapet and entered the guardhouse through the other door.

"Ah, we meet again, my young friend!" Despiado greeted as he entered. Despiado held Lyra in front of him, the edge of a dagger pressing close to her neck.

Galen drew his sword as soon as he saw what was happening, but Despiado cautioned him against any rash actions. "Close the door behind you and lay your sword on the ground if you wish the lady to continue living."

"Don't listen to him Galen! Close the gate. I would rather die than let Anvard fall to these barbarians," Lyra declared, her eyes flashing with anger, not fear.

"Brave words, my lady," Despiado laughed, "but he would not wish these flagstones to be reddened with your blood."

"I wonder that a poltroon* such as yourself ever attained the rank of commander," Galen remarked as slowly put down the new sword that he held down on the floor and took a slow step to the right. "Only a coward uses a lady to shield himself when a good duel is at hand."

"Honor," Despiado scoffed. "A thing for weaklings. Narnia's honor did not save her. Archenland's honor will not save her either. Whatever means accomplish my goals-that is virtue."

Galen slowly paced. "Honor and virtue are my least worries when you are concerned, sir."

Despiado merely smiled a cunning, snake-like smile. At that moment the door to the turret burst open noisily as Ayden and two other knights entered through the south door.

"It seems that your neck is in greater peril every moment, my lady," Despiado remarked, looking pointedly at the newcomers.

Ayden motioned for the knights to leave.

"Ayden, close the gate!" Lyra urged. "Worry not for me. My fate is of no consequence so long as you kill this weasel and keep Anvard safe."

"Anvard is already lost, my valiant lady," Despiado taunted.

A moment later, however, the gate mechanisms sprang to life and the gate began to close. This unexpected occurrence distracted Despiado for a moment, a moment that Lyra exploited. She put one hand to the wrist that held the dagger while sharply elbowing Despiado with the other arm. The Telmarine doubled over for a moment, and Lyra pulled the dagger away from her neck and twisted his arm back. A second later, though, Despiado wrenched his arm from her grasp and kicked Lyra to the turret wall. The second Lyra was free Galen dove for his sword and Ayden raised his. Despiado still held his sword, and the three met blades. The Telmarine swung for Galen but Galen blocked the strike. Ayden struck for the Telmarine, but was blocked swiftly. Despite the numerical imbalance, Despiado was ample match for Galen and Ayden. The three fought furiously for a minute or two.

By the wall, Lyra sat up, a little dazed, then realized that Despiado's dagger lay next to her on the stones. Galen and Ayden continued to fight with the Telmarine, but Despiado kicked Ayden viciously a moment later and the Archenlander fell against the wall. Galen continued to fight Despiado and a rapid pace. Steel flashed and clashed every which way until Despiado stiffened. Lyra had thrown the Telmarine's dagger, and it lodged in his back. Despiado continued to fight, but Galen took advantage of the weakness to strike the Telmarine a mortal blow. Ayden ran him through for good measure, and Despiado finally crumpled to the stone floor.

"Archenland will bow to Telmar, I promise you," Despiado panted, then laid still.

"Finally that horrid man is gone," Lyra exclaimed, causing Galen and Ayden to smile.

"What happened with the gate?" Galen inquired.

"They must have triggered the other mechanism in the southeast guardhouse," Ayden replied with a smile.

The threesome exited the turret. A battle was still at hand, after all. Lyra retrieved her bow and turned the archers attention to the Telmarines still amassed at Anvard's gates. Galen and Ayden rejoined the battle in the courtyard, but only a few Telmarines had gotten through and they were quickly dealt with.

The Telmarines outside the gates, however, decided to continue their siege that night, and once again the battering ram struck hard upon Anvard's gate. Through the night the defenders of Anvard did not sleep, and the whizz of arrows and bolts filled the air constantly. Long into the night, as the moon glistened behind the two peaks of Mt. Pire, the battering ram had been long abandoned amongst the bodies of its unfortunate bearers. These Telmarines, however, did not cease their attack. From every side came siege ladders and soldiers to scale them.

"We need more arrows here!"

"There are none left!"

"Fight hand to hand if you have to, then!"

Near the northwest turret another ladder popped up against the wall. Galen and an Archen soldier pushed the ladder away, and it toppled down, only to be pushed back against the wall a moment later. Nearby a Telmarine hopped onto the parapet, and an archer dealt him a hard blow with his now arrow-less bow. Three more Telmarines reached the parapet here, and shouts and clashes of steel called out the presence of others elsewhere around the castle walls. Galen had long ago tossed away his bow and drawn his lion-pommeled sword. He swung at a Telmarine that was trying to mount the parapet from a ladder, and the soldier fell to the ground far below. Another jumped up behind him, and an archen soldier's swift slash put an end to him. Throughout the castle Anvard's defenders held their ground, but the Telmarines numbered too many. Far too many.

Galen found the need to draw his grandfather's sword as well, and as steel flashed in the moonlight from every which way, a shout rang out from the east parapet. Galen glanced over and saw a flood of Telmarines surging over the wall with no Archenlanders defending the spot. Ayden ran towards the mass, sword at the ready, leading twenty Archen soldiers. Archen soldiers in the courtyard hurried to the stairways. More Telmarines attacked the spot where Galen guarded the wall, and as these began to surge over the wall, the swords began to flash so rapidly that Galen could not pause for the barest breath lest he let down his guard.

"They're breaching the courtyard! Secure the Keep!" Ayden's shout rang out across Anvard, and the castle's defenders fell back from the parapet to surround the Keep.

Galen struck at another Telmarine before backing down the stairs and joining the Archenlanders amassed in the courtyard. The Narnian found himself standing beside Ayden and Lyra, both of whom, like him, had lost their share of blood.

"Is this to be our end, then, sister?" Ayden pondered.

"If it is then let us meet it well, brother. I will yield no further."

"Warriors of Archenland, stand firm," Ayden raised his voice. "We shall fall back no more."

Assenting shouts filled the air, and the Telmarines reached the courtyard. Around the keep a hundred and twenty Archenlanders stood their ground, swords poised for attack. From all sides their enemy surged down from the parapet.

"_Aslan," Galen thought, "if ever I needed Thee, 'tis now. If it be Thy will, bring us victory this day and let not another foot of ground fall to those who have destroyed so much. If not, let me do valiantly until Thou seest fit to bring me home."_

As the Telmarines closed around them Ayden raised his sword and shouted, "For Archenland and Aslan! Liberty or Death!"

Six score voices joined with Ayden's as the Archenlanders (and Narnian) charged towards the Telmarines and joined in fierce battle. Galen swung the sword in his right hand towards the nearest Telmarine then swung his grandfather's sword in a backslash at another. The sound of steel on steel filled the air along with the cries of the wounded and dying. Beside Galen, Lyra swung her blade in harmony to her brother's, which caused Galen to remember a lesson he had learned long ago from his old mentor, a tradition that not even the Telmarines could cause to be forgotten.

"Fight as brothers," he muttered to himself, recalling the Centaur's words with a smile. Galen raised his voice and shouted, "Backs together! Fight as brothers!"

The Archen warriors paused a moment, then understood his meaning. Lyra and Ayden turned in one swift motion to protect each other, and Lyra beckoned for Galen to join them. All around the courtyard of Anvard, twosomes, threesomes, and foursomes of Archenlanders took up the formation of Narnia's antiquity, each protecting the other and becoming far stronger in the process. The Telmarines continued their attack, but each band that held its ground remained intact. In this way the defenders of Anvard fought until dawn creeped upon them, the star-strewn sky lightening little by little. Telmarines still pressed thickly upon them, but not as many as before. As the sun finally rose and the sky turned blue, a horn sounded outside Anvard's gates.

"Open the gates!" Ayden shouted, recognizing the horn, and an Archen soldier swiftly made for the parapet. A few Telmarines chased him, but the Archenlander was swift and reached the guardhouse before they could catch him. The strong gates creaked and began to open, and as they did many people bearing Archenland's standard surged into the courtyard. Anvard's parapets were once again manned by Archenland's archers, and a multitude of mounted knights attacked the rear flank of the Telmarine onslaught. A half hour later every Telmarine within Anvard's gates was either dead or dying, and a great shout went out from the weary, mud-spattered defenders. King Lorn and Queen Laila dismounted their chargers and approached the keep.

"Mother, father, 'tis good to see you," Lyra smiled.

"It is good to see you, as well. For some reason I felt as though we should return overnight, and we saw your signal as soon as we reached the other side of the mountains," Lorn replied.

"Our signal?" Ayden puzzled.

"There," the queen pointed. "Is it not of your design?"

The three other Archenlanders and Galen turned to where the queen pointed, and saw that a blue light glowed from a window in the northeast keep turret. Many other people saw the light as well now, and murmuring filled the courtyard.

"Nay, mother, we did not set that beacon," Ayden answered.

"Sir Galen, is that not your room?" Lyra asked.

"Indeed."

They made their way inside the keep and up to Galen's room. Upon entering, the light began to dissipate. Galen took a few steps forward, and as the light ceased he realized that the source was the Stone Knife.

"Thanks be to Aslan for this victory," Galen smiled. "T'was of His design, and no other."

* * *

*I watched the Voyage of the Dawn Treader the other week, and I was very disappointed that Reepicheep never said his favorite word. I couldn't resist using it here.

Thanks for reading! Please tell me what you think!


	13. Chapter 12: The Matter of Politics

Author's Note: Again, I apologize for the extremely slow update. College isn't nice to writing. Summer vacations are. :D

Ayden's rallying cry in the last chapter, "Liberty or Death," is, for those who didn't recognize it, taken from one of the flags of the Texas Revolution. Trekkie moment! Bonus points to anyone who recognizes the (slightly modified) line from Star Trek: First Contact that I used in the last chapter. Be on the look out for the Star Trek reference in this chapter (if someone gets it I'll try really extra hard to update faster!). Hint: TNG. Fierce, this one's for you! Happy Graduation!

Chapter the Twelfth: The Matter of Politics

_13 Quickening 2075 Anvard, Archenland._

"They sold their lives dearly, and bought our liberty with their blood. Let us never forget these valiant knights. May they find peace in Aslan's Country." King Lorn's voice resounded in the cool evening air.

A soft breeze blew through the trees around the little meadow behind Anvard, rustling the aspen leaves to produce a shimmering cascade of sound around those who stood on the soft grass. The setting sun painted the sky with soft shades of rose, violet, and gold as mourners gathered around twenty-two new graves. As King Lorn finished speaking, the crowd began to disperse.

Galen stood near an oak tree, and before turning back to Anvard, he found himself staring to the northern sky. Mount Pire's sister spires soared towards heaven's darkening curtain, and he felt it strange to see its southern slopes rather than the familiar northern ones. So much had happened in such a little time, and Galen had not had the opportunity to ponder. Home seemed so distant now, hidden behind those two peaks.

"Does aught trouble you, Sir Galen?"

Galen turned to see Lyra standing beside him.

"No, my lady."

"Nay, my good sir, that melancholy sigh did not come of contentment," Lyra countered.

The Narnian looked down a moment, then back towards the mountains. "My heart yearns for the forests of home. I never realized how much I loved those woods till now, now that I no longer have them. Telmar's tyranny notwithstanding, Narnia is my home," Galen replied quietly, and Lyra nodded in acknowledgement.

"Sometimes I would climb my favorite tree, a particularly monstrous oak, and at the very top I felt like I could reach out and touch the sky," he continued wistfully.

"Well, Archenland may not be home for you, but I know a place that you might find to your liking," Lyra answered after a moment, and Galen smiled a little.

"Come on then, follow me," said Lyra, starting towards the forest.

Galen and Lyra entered the woods and began to walk away from the little meadow north of Anvard. The terrain began to slope uphill, and large moss-covered rocks laid beside the tall trees. Lyra led Galen across the side of the hill and to a place where a stream ran down a small rock cleft that stood about seven feet tall. Here Lyra hopped over the water and deftly climbed up the rocks beside the little waterfall where worn footholds evinced years of use. Galen followed, and reaching the top he found himself in a glen where a group of trees encircled a deep pool. A much larger waterfall cascaded down into the pool, which was clear enough to see the smooth-surfaced bottom far below. Above the waterfall he could see the slopes of Mount Argyros rising to meet the stars who had begun to herald Night's arrival.

"This, Sir Galen, is Glen Síocháin, my place of solitude and respite. It is the only place I am truly content."

"Aye, 'tis no mystery as to why. A lovelier place I would be hard pressed to find," Galen replied, joining Lyra on the grassy carpet beneath a willow tree, whose long locks of leaves trailed into the water. A moment passed where the only sound was that of the falling water as each sat occupied with their own thoughts.

"I have never seen Anvard laid siege," Lyra remarked quietly as she stared pensively into the blue water. "Battles have I endured aplenty, but this….this I fear I did not weather well at all."

"Nay, you do yourself a disservice, my lady. I count myself fortunate to have had you and your sword at my back through that battle."

"A sentiment I reciprocate, Sir Galen, although you give me more credit than I am due. Ayden says my zeal oft translates to hasty anger and general pugnacity.

"Ah, but general pugnacity is not the worst weakness to have, and for lack of zeal has a army been routed. My fears are much less rational. For one, I cannot stand open fields," Galen began, and Lyra chuckled.

"In truth! They make me feel that a foe will pop up at any moment. I did not think I would feel thusly in Archenland, but the day that you and Ayden showed me the fields around Anvard I found myself clutching my sword hilt the entire time. Silly, really," he continued, shaking his head.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Lyra replied with a smile. "Here 'tis the sands that house trouble more than aught else."

"Calormenes," Lyra continued, speaking as though tasting something bitter, "They make our politicians look the apex of courtesy and goodness."

"Since I have met neither politician nor Calormene, I know not the difference," Galen replied, and Lyra laughed.

"Oh, you will meet our politicians when Parliament convenes next week. Such pomp and folly. If only my great-great-great-great grandfather King Lore had the good sense to rule wisely instead of oppressing the whole of Archenland until the court revolted, we would not have to mess with the ever-quarreling chamber of nonsense that is Parliament. You will see what I mean. Just wait till they hear (if they have not already) that you have brought the Stone Knife. I pity you, Sir Galen, for they will not give you a moment's peace."

"They sound dreadful enough. What of Calormenes?"

"Calormenes are a lot to be glad that you have never encountered. They are always overly dressed up and ever eager to display their wealth and status. Never does a moment go by without one of them quoting some sort of platitude, and they have the most repressive, backwards ideas about women. Last time the ambassador visited Archenland he had the audacity to inquire if my sword was a new fashion accouterment in imitation of some famed warrior's blade!" Lyra continued, and Galen could not help laughing.

"What an awful lot they sound indeed," Galen chuckled, "I would have liked to have seen your answer to that foolhardy ambassador."

"Yes, well...I drew my supposed fashion statement and asked him in a not particularly polite manner that I would be happy to demonstrate the real purpose of my quite real Archen broadsword to him. I do not think I helped to remedy the Calormene view of the northern lands: he ran off muttering something about barbarians," Lyra answered wryly, and Galen nearly fell into the pool for laughter.

"I daresay I have not heard a funnier thing in a dozen fortnights! Although, I do remember something that happened years ago that became something of a comical mess. I had three good friends-a mouseling named Peep who had the most mischievous mind and courageous heart, a fawn* named Adeline who was always very curious, and Garbhan, a satyr from whom we routinely had to hide Mother's cookies. One evening we all decided to put on our heavy winter cloaks to try to scare the grumpiest old owl anyone ever met into thinking his tree was haunted. We carried shaded lanterns and made fools of ourselves carrying on with all sorts of noises. Well, the old owl did not care much for the prank-every one of his feathers stood on end until he quite resembled a pincushion-but it ended up with the unintended consequence of frightening the wits out of a Telmarine patrol that just happened to be passing by at the same time. From then on we made sure to haunt the woods ever so often, and even today the Telmarines fear the forest ghosts and will usually not set foot within a bow-shot of the tree line."

"Now that is a tale worth telling!" Lyra exclaimed, laughing. "Oh!" she exclaimed, looking up at the rising moon, "We have probably missed dinner! Come on!"

Lyra stood up and quickly climbed down the rocks and began threading her way through the thick trees. Galen followed, and soon the towers of Anvard were in sight. As they reached the edge of the woods, Lyra paused a moment.

"Sir Galen, if our Parliament members pester you too much (as they are wont to do), know that you are always welcome in my little glen."

"Thank you, my lady. If they are as you have described, I may well have need of it,"

Galen replied, smiling.

* * *

20 Quickening 2075

The week had passed quickly for Galen in the flurry of activity of the sort that comes after seiges. The damage Anvard sustained was now nearly repaired, and no one would have suspected the buildings of the village nearby to have been aflame the week before.

This morning Galen watched the dawn from the north east turret. Mt. Argyros towered above him, and the green forest spread out below him, gradually lightening as the sun rose from the sliver of sea Galen could make out on the horizon.

"Is this it, then?" Galen asked himself as the wind rustled the tree tops below. "Is this the safe place to which I have brought the Knife?" He wondered. "What do I do now?"

The Narnian knight slowly drew his sword, the stone-sword, from its scabbard and ran a finger over the letters etched on the flat.

_"Aslan, help me. Whatever path thou wouldst have me trod, please plant my feet upon it, for I know not what to do."_

Galen continued to watch the sky as its rosy hues danced before the coming dawn, still wondering in the silence that answered him. As he stood there, the wind blew around him, soft and sweet, inexplicably reassuring. Galen lifted his gaze to the horizon and took a deep breath before returning his sword to its scabbard and turning into a turret stairwell. Today would carry its own share of troubles, and tomorrow's could stand to wait.

"Good morn, Sir Galen!" A cheerful salutation echoed in the stone corridor.

"A good morn to you too, Princess Lyra, Prince Ayden," Galen returned.

"Today is the day, good sir. I do hope our Parliamentarians behave themselves for you."

"Come now, dear sister," Ayden interjected. "They are not as bad as all that."

"Oh, no? Pray tell, brother, what has affected your memory so?" Lyra retorted lightheartedly. "Our buffoons shall be arriving later today, and Anvard consequently deteriorate into a first rate circus."

Ayden and Galen could not help but laugh, and the threesome made a beeline for the breakfast laid out on the terrace.

"What does the arrival of Parliament entail, my lady?" Galen inquired as they ate.

"Too much pomp and perfume," Lyra replied, laughter sparkling in her eyes. Ayden rolled his eyes, and Galen grinned. "The arrival and subsequent convening of Parliament involves the Royal Court welcoming the members as they arrive. Tomorrow morning father will formally open Parliament in the traditional ceremony, and tomorrow evening a grand ball will be held to celebrate the dubiously auspicious occasion."

"It sounds very complicated. What does Parliament do exactly?"

"Parliament was introduced as a means to keep royal power in check and bring the concerns of all of Archenland's people into consideration. Overall, Parliament does not really have all that much power. They make proposals, discuss treaties, and approve non-emergency expenditures."

"Not to mention quarreling a good deal," Ayden interjected this time.

"What ought I do in all of this?" Galen inquired.

"Father would like you to meet the Parliament members, and no doubt they will be anxious to meet you. You do not have to come to the ball or the opening ceremony, but you would be welcome," Ayden answered.

"I fear that life in the forests did not prepare me for the refined goings-on of a royal court, but I shall try my best," Galen replied.

"I think you shall do fine, Sir Galen, so long as you remain yourself," Lyra replied.

* * *

Clarions pierced the afternoon air, announcing the approach of the Parliamentary convoys. The court of Anvard assembled in the courtyard to receive them. Galen stood on the parapet watching a column of horses coalesce from all different directions. The first horsemen approached the gate, and Galen descended to join the court below.

Two mounted heralds entered the courtyard bearing purple banners with silver quatrefoils. Two carriages and a full baggage cart followed. The first carriage stopped in front of the king and queen, and the purple-attired man, woman, and a girl of approximately sixteen disembarked. The three bowed to the royal family.

"Welcome, Lord and Lady Porphyra, Lady Paulette to Anvard," King Lorn greeted as the accompanying carriages continued toward the postern door where pages awaited the baggage.

"Thank you, your majesty," Lord Porphyra returned.

"My lord and ladies, I would like to introduce you to Archenland's newest friend: Sir Galen of Narnia, of the Order of the Lion's Redemption." Queen Layla introduced, motioning towards Galen. The family Porphyra bowed, and Galen bowed in return.

"A pleasure to meet you, my lord and ladies," Galen addressed.

"Oh, the pleasure is ours, Sir Galen," Lady Paulette replied, "We have heard so much about you."

Much to Galen's relief, another bright clarion call cut the lady off as the next Parliament member arrived. The next entourage entered much the same as the first, and this process continued until the sky began to darken with the dusk. Galen was exceedingly glad to finally finish bowing for the day, and retired to his room for a long-awaited bit of peace and quiet.

Galen did not enjoy that peace and quiet for long before a knock sounded at his door. Galen opened it to find Lyra waiting at the door with a package.

"Good evening, my lady. What brings you here?"

"Good evening, Sir Galen. I have brought you a gift from my mother. She also extends her warmest invitations to the banquet this evening."

"Thank you, my lady, your mother is very kind. I….a banquet?"

"Verily, good sir. I have never seen a parliament yet that did not insist upon a good banquet to begin their session," Lyra replied, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "Here," she handed him the package, "these are for you. I believe you shall indeed have need of them."

Galen opened the package to find a soft velvet tunic of royal blue, embroidered with the silver rampant lion of his knightly order, and a pair of silken breeches.

"The banquet should begin in an hour or so, and I must prepare as well," Lyra began. "I shall see you in a little while."

"Thank you, my lady," Galen answered, closing the door after her. He examined the queen's gift. It was certainly better than any clothes he had ever owned, and the heraldic device was perfect, but the Narnian was ill at ease. The life of an Archen courtier was a life to which he was ill suited, he thought. Leaving the clothes on the dresser, Galen gazed out the window to the forest outside. The snowcapped mountains seemed to beckon to him, and he could not help but long for his old oak tree and the Narnian hills.

_"Such is the price of a promise,_" Galen sighed.

After nearly an hour's worth of musings, Galen donned the fine new clothes along with his boots and silver-pommeled new sword (these politicians were a bunch of which it seemed prudent to be wary), and started walking to the great hall. Along the way he met Lyra and Ayden, who wore matching green velvet attire embroidered with the golden Archen gryphon. The threesome descended the great staircase and joined the crowd of milling about the banquet hall. Galen stood out of the way, observing the hundreds of people making small talk. Inside his mind, he was nervous with a nervousness different than any apprehension than he had yet experienced. The life of a royal court was a new phenomenon to him, and as yet he knew not what to make of it.

"Sir Galen, are you alright?"

"Oh. Yes, my lady," Galen answered Lyra. "I am just not so sure I know what to do, where to go, and how to behave in the midst of this...whatever it is."

"Oh," Lyra chuckled. "I understand. Father will call us to eat soon, and you will not have to worry about it so much."

Galen was somewhat encouraged, until he noticed the pair of brightly clad girls standing together, alternatively whispering and glancing at him. When Galen met their gaze they turned away, chattering. Puzzled, Galen moved away to stay close to Lyra and Ayden.

None too soon for Galen, King Lorn called the guests to take their seats.

Once seated, Galen looked down the long banquet table. One hundred members of parliament, their families, and the many Anvard courtiers sat along its length. Almost as many servants approached the table with great trays and platters of food, and piled it high upon the stout oaken table, which was covered with a fine ivory linen tablecloth. The plates were a fine porcelain, and the goblets of sparkling glass encrusted with jewels. King Lorn officially began the banquet, and then everyone piled his plate with everything he wanted.

Galen sat next to Lyra and across from Ayden, who was sitting beside a younger lady in pale rose attire. The hall filled with the dull roar of conversation and the soft strains of a harp and flute.

"Sir Galen," the lady in rose addressed, "are the rumors true?"

"Of what rumors do you speak, my lady?"

"Everyone speaks of the Stone Knife. Have you not brought it here?"

"That is correct, my lady."

"Oh! How amazing! I could not believe it when I heard. Those from which I heard it did not tell me that the Knife was brought by so young a knight, however."

"I see," Galen replied tersely.

"Well, that is not a bad thing at all. I, in fact, thought it a pleasant surprise."

"Oh. Thank you." Galen replied halfheartedly, a cold knot of dread settling in his stomach and his face turning beet red.

Tonight would prove to be a long night, he feared.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading! Please review! Happy Independence Day! *cue fireworks*

*Adeline is a fawn as in young deer, not faun as in Mr. Tumnus.


	14. Chapter 13: Of Balls and Botheration

Author's Note: I'm going to try to update at least semi-regularly now that I have a little extra time. Thank you again to all my reviewers, and kudos to Fierce, who made a valiant effort in guessing my Trekkie references. And now, for something new.

Chapter the Thirteenth: Of Balls and Botheration

* * *

_21 Quickening 2075_

Spritely dance music filled the Great Hall of Anvard. The Hall was decorated festively and full of Archen nobles in their colorful finery, the necessary conclusion to the Opening of Parliament that morning.

This morning had held more trouble for Galen. Parliament held its opening ceremonies (every bit as grandiose as Lyra warned), and their first order of business included a motion to create a gallery to house the Stone Knife. The Parliament unanimously approved the measure to offer all of Archenland's citizens an opportunity to view the legendary relic. As for Galen, he was not sure what to make of this, and very sure that he did not like politicians.

Now, he found himself standing to the side of the room near the tables of food, a glass in hand, watching the waltzers whirl by in their brightly colored silks and satins. He wore his deep blue heraldic tunic, silken breeches, and well-polished boots.

The first song ended and Lyra, clad in a violet gown with silver trim, happened near where Galen stood as she helped the slowly healing Sir Donovan to sit in one of the plush chairs provided for those who had been wounded in the battle.

"Good evening, Sir Galen," she greeted when Sir Donovan was comfortably seated.

"My lady," he returned with a nod.

"What do you think of the Ball?"

"I think it is lovely. My compliments."

"Thank you," she replied, inclining her head. A moment or two went by, then Galen set his glass down on the table nearby as the minstrels began another waltz.

"Your highness," Galen bowed, "May I have the pleasure of this dance?"

"I would be honored, sir," Lyra answered with a smile and curtsey.

The pair joined the other colorful, whirling dancers.

"This ball is unlike anything I have experienced," Galen remarked as they danced.

"Really? You dance very well for someone who has never been to one."

"Despite my life spent in the forest far away from culture and finery, dancing of all sorts was something my mother was adamant that I learn," Galen replied, and Lyra smiled.

"Your mother must be a fine lady."

"Aye," said Galen, slightly wistful for a moment, then he laughed. "Mother always told father and I that even though we lived in the wilderness of the Shuddering Wood we were going keep alive some bit of refinement and culture even if it killed us."

Lyra laughed. "You weathered her bits of culture remarkably well."

The music ended, and applause filled the room. The leader of the minstrels stood up and addressed the room.

"Good sirs and ladies all, by the request of the King, this next song is an old Narnian folk dance played in honor of Archenland's new friend, Sir Galen of Narnia. Without further ado, 'The Dancing Waters of Beaversdam.'"

The flute, lute, harp, and fiddle began to play the first notes of the spirited reel, and Galen smiled as he recognized the tune from the Christmas celebrations at the Dancing Lawn.

"My lady," he began with a bow.

"My lord," Lyra returned with a curtsey and a smile.

All in the Great Hall set their feet to dancing, whirling, stomping, and spinning to the wild, free-spirited reel. All too soon the song ended, and the minstrels took up a traditional Archen tune. Prince Ayden approached and greeted the two.

"By your leave, Sir Galen," Ayden inclined his head toward Galen and then turned to Lyra, "May I have this dance, sister?"

"Of course, brother," Lyra replied.

As the siblings danced away, Galen returned to his spot by the table and began to converse with Sir Donovan.

"I hope that you are feeling better, sir," Galen began.

"Indeed so, Sir Galen. I only wish I had been able to fight."

"I understand that, Sir Donovan, but do not let it worry you. Had your fight been honorable, there is no doubt in my mind that the outcome would have been much different."

"You are most kind, sir." Donovan replied. After a pause, he continued. "Sir Galen, of your courtesy, would you permit me a question?"

"Of course, sir."

"Was it truly the Stone Knife that brought victory to Anvard?"

"It was the conduit through which Aslan saw fit to bring us aid, if that is what you mean, sir."

"I see," Donovan replied. "I never dreamed I would ever be so fortunate as to see the Knife of legend, a thing all of Archenland feared lost to Telmar."

Galen nodded, and would have replied, but a brown-haired lady in a scarlet gown stopped and addressed him.

"Sir Galen, what fortune! I have been dying to meet you after all I have heard tell of the lionhearted Narnian knight, and we were so late in arriving that we missed the introductory ceremonies."

"I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage, my lady," Galen replied, glancing towards Donovan (who was endeavoring to disguise a very un-knightly smirk).

Regaining his composure, Donovan interjected, "Sir Galen, may I introduce Lady Valencia, daughter of Parliament's Lord Terence."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady," Galen replied, taking the hand she offered and lightly kissing it.

"Indeed a pleasure, Sir Galen," Valencia curtseyed in return.

"I believe the lady is fond of waltzes, Sir Galen," Donovan continued to interject to Galen's dismay.

"Oh. Well, if that is the case my lady, would you care to dance?"

"Indeed, sir, I thought you would never ask," Valencia replied, smiling.

_"The thought did cross my mind,"_ Galen thought to himself, groaning inwardly.

"I cannot wait to tell Paulette and Sara that I have gotten to dance with the famed Narnian knight!" Valencia exclaimed as they began to dance.

"Famed, my lady?"

"Why, I daresay that your name has not left anyone's lips in a fortnight."

"I must beg my lady's pardon. What have I done that could warrant such infamy?"

"You jest, sir. Infamy? Why, the whole of Archenland speaks of your valorous deeds-the victory over the Phantom Knight, the winning of the sword in marble, and the vanquishing of the Telmarines via the Stone Knife you guard."

"My lady gives me praise of which I am undeserving."

"Nay, Sir Galen, I have no doubt that you are as valiant and lionhearted as the rumors tell. Tell me, how did you escape the Telmarines with the Knife? It must have been such an adventure!"

"Well," Galen began, but before he could reply, Princess Lyra approached the two and laid a hand lightly on the talkative lady's arm.

"Lady Valencia, of your courtesy?"

"Of course, your highness," Valencia responded with a curtesy.

Galen bowed to his scarlet-clad dance partner, then offered a hand to Lyra.

"I am in your debt, my lady," whispered a relieved Galen after they had moved a ways off.

Lyra laughed. "I dearly hope you remember this debt in a few weeks when a particularly disagreeable Calormene prince comes to Anvard to seek my hand."

"You may count upon it, my lady," Galen answered, smiling.

* * *

Music filled the Great Hall until even the stars tired of dancing and began to retreat before the lightening sky. Wearied dancers dispersed to their rooms fairly dragging their exhausted feet behind them.

The next day was not a peaceful one for Galen. As Lady Valencia asserted, Galen and the Stone Knife was the conversation topic of choice, and Galen found that many a person made requests to see it or hear his tale. After a while, Galen tired of these requests and took refuge in the stables (where no self-respecting politician ever deigned to go).

"Galen, what troubles you?" Aiolos greeted as Galen entered with a rather dark countenance.

"Oh, 'tis nothing of import, I suppose," Galen sighed, leaning against the wall. There are so many worse perils in existence that I have no right to be annoyed at trifles."

"Nay, my friend, you will not get off so easily with me," Aiolos snorted. "What ails thee?"

"These Archen nobles, these politicians, never cease to pester me. Each one wants a glimpse of the Stone Knife, each one ready to assert his ever-so-high status to encourage me to assent. Another wants to hold my sword, still another wishes a retelling of the dreadful tale of Narnia's defeat. Their sons do the same, and their daughters are no better! They wear brightly colored gowns with far too many bows and titter amongst themselves whenever I pass them in the corridor. Ever so often three or four will approach me and beg a story, a tale of my supposedly glorious exploits, giggling and simpering all the while. Glorious exploits? Nothing I have done fits that description. By the Lion, Aiolos, never have I been so tormented."

"A grim sentence indeed, Galen, but surely better than battle," Aiolos replied, whinnying a little as he suppressed a laugh at Galen's comical plight.

"I would rather be fighting for my life, rather have that miserable bolt back in my shoulder than endure these dreadful people!"

"I wish I could help you," Aiolos answered his frustrated friend.

"Oh, I apologize for my whining, Aiolos, I…." Galen trailed off, suddenly alert to sounds of voices outside the stable.

"I think he went in here Almayra, come on!"

The stable door creaked open, and Galen scrambled to hide in the shadows of Aiolos' stall. Just as he concealed himself, two of Galen's satin-clad tormentors entered the stable.

"That's funny, I thought for sure I saw him go in here, Almayra."

"I guess not, Paulette. At least, I hope not. Eew, it smells in here."

"For whom are my ladies searching? Perhaps I might be of assistance," Aiolos abruptly interjected.

"Paulette, did you hear that?" Almayra asked, paling.

"Y-yes, the horse is t-talking!"

"What kind of creatures do they keep in Anvard?"

"Oh, I want to go home!"

With that, the two disconcerted lasses made a remarkably hasty and shriek-ridden exit.

As soon as the stable door swung shut, Galen popped up out of the straw and made no attempt to stifle his laughter.

"Aiolos, you have helped me more than words can say! I feel much better. Thank you."

"You are most welcome, Galen. Anytime you have need, do not hesitate to call upon me!"

* * *

_31 Quickening 2075_

"This has got to be a record!" Lyra exclaimed as she, Galen, and Ayden ate breakfast a few days later. "Parliament usually never gets anything done, and now they've got the Stone Knife's gallery finished today, just a little over a week. If that is not a record, good sirs, I have no idea what is."

"Well, I'll agree, sister, that establishing a place of prominence and permanence for the Stone Knife in time for the New Year's celebration is a remarkable feat," Ayden agreed.

When Galen did not seem to have anything to say on a matter that clearly affected himself, Ayden inquired his opinion in the matter.

"Well," Galen hesitated. "I suppose this gallery for the Stone Knife is a good and beneficial thing. I merely worry that displaying the Knife in such a manner will be a great security risk."

"What of the legend, though? I read that the Knife is known to gravely injure those who would do it harm," Lyra replied.

"That legend is true, but if there was no need to provide for its protection, there would be no need for the knightly order to which I belong. Surely the charge and service of myself, my father, grandfather, and all those who came before us-even to Narnia's Golden Age when the kings and queens ruled from Cair Paravel's four thrones-are not meaningless!"

"You raise a valid point, Sir Galen, I apologize," Lyra replied.

"You needn't apologize, my lady," Galen returned, looking down. No one said anything for a moment, then Lyra spoke again.

"Parliament's president has asked me to inform you that Parliament has overwhelmingly agreed that you should be the one to place the Stone Knife in the gallery."

"Thank you, my lady. When is the ceremony?"

"It has been scheduled for tomorrow morning, at ten o'clock," Lyra replied.

"I shall be there," Galen answered.

"If you will excuse me, my friends," he finished, standing and briskly walking toward his room.

* * *

Galen spent the morning in his room, mulling and conflicted. Is this gallery of Parliament's really the best way to safeguard the Knife and fulfill his promise? What would he do if this was the case? Would he have to stay here and guard it all his life, or would his duty be finished? How could he return to Narnia having left her most precious artifact in the hands of another kingdom, however sympathetic that kingdom was?

Lunch time came and went, and Galen still found himself pacing the floor of his room. Finally, in frustration he seized his bow and bracer and made his way to the field near Anvard where targets were set up for archery practice. When frustrated, a little shooting never hurt to take one's mind off problems.

Once he reached the field, Galen strung his bow, pulled his bracer over his left arm, and filled his quiver with a handful of arrows. Taking aim, the frustrated knight let loose arrow after arrow until the target very much resembled a pincushion. After emptying his quiver, Galen turned around because he felt an eery sensation, as though he was being watched. This feeling was not in vain, the Narnian quickly realized. A group of young ladies, in their all-too-familiar too fancy attire, stood several yards behind him, talking amongst themselves as they watched him and two other archers practice. As he glanced back at his unwelcome audience, one of the girls met his gaze and smiled. As she did so, Galen was taken aback, because her smile was not a kind or friendly sort of smile, but a cunning, almost snake-like sort of smile. He turned away quickly, and decided that his time was better spent in a less conspicuous location. As he left, the girl turned to her companions and whispered slyly:

_"Give me two weeks, and the great Narnian knight will follow me like a leashed puppy."_

* * *

Galen returned to his room, and proceeded to busy himself with cleaning and polishing his swords. They did not really need it, but he needed something to do to keep his mind off of everything. Archenland was so different, he mused. So many humans, and with such strange behavior. Galen was beginning to think that he preferred to be in the minority, as he was in Narnia's underground society.

As the sun began to dip behind the western mountains, Galen decided he might as well head to the great hall for dinner. As usual, loud chatter filled the room along with the clatter of dishes. Galen took his usual seat, and after greeting the royal family, quietly began to eat. Of course, a peaceful meal was not to be had.

"Sir Galen!" A voice near him sounded. The Narnian looked over and identified its owner: a man in his mid thirties, one of the representatives of the northwestern province of Silvershire.

"Yes, my lord," Galen replied.

"I have been very anxious to speak with you."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, good sir. I am sure that there is much you can teach us regarding Telmarine tactics that could help us prepare against another invasion."

"Is there anything in particular you would like to know, my lord?"

"Well, sir, I am curious as to how you were able to escape Telmarine Narnia so quickly, and unscathed. It could prove valuable."

"With respect, my lord, I do not think that information could be of any use. I only escaped by inches, and only by Aslan's grace. Nor did I escape unscathed, as the new scar my shoulder bears is quick to remind me."

"I see. Perhaps, then, you could enlighten us of the exact circumstances of Narnia's defeat. I understand a direct relative of yours witnessed the event, and such information could prove invaluable."

"My lord, of your courtesy, do not ask that of me."

"Why, it must also be a grand tale worthy of this court to tell. Tragedies make the best epics, do they not?"

"Narnia's demise is no fairy tale, my lord. The very words bring such pain to my heart that I could not bear to tell, yet again, how my beautiful Narnia has been crushed and broken, her freedom and dignity stolen away without mercy. Nay, my lord, I cannot grant you that."

"Come now, sir! Such refusal is discourteous," the persistent lord returned, and Galen stood.

"I am not your servant, my lord, I am a free Narnian citizen, and I would thank you to keep that in mind," the Narnian replied. "Please excuse me, King Lorn, Queen Layla," Galen turned to the head of the table, "I am afraid I have lost my appetite." The king inclined his head, and Galen turned on his heel and left the room.

* * *

A soft breeze wafted across the tree tops as Galen stood on the parapet, watching the brilliantly shimmering night sky above him.

_"Aslan, I am so confused," he thought. "I have thought about it inside out, frontwards, backwards, and sideways, and I do not know if this gallery is truly the right solution. I have committed to placing the Knife there, but I am not bound to leave it there. Please, show me how to fulfill my promise. What do I do?" _Galen begged.

"_Peace."_ The barest whisper spoke from within his mind, as if in answer. Galen bowed his head a moment, then lifted his gaze to the stars.

_"Very well, Aslan. Help me put my trust I Thee."_

* * *

_1 Mayblossom 2076_

The new year dawned bright and clear, and as the morning sun rose above the forests, Anvard's court gathered outside the newly converted ground floor turret room that would house the Stone Knife. Clarions announced the Narnian's arrival in the throne room as Galen walked through the row of Archen dignitaries, the mahogany box held in his hands. He walked deliberately, his back straight and head held high. Galen approached the gallery and placed the box on the pedestal inside. He opened the cover to reveal the Stone Knife nestled in in blue velvet. The young knight stepped away and stood to the side, next to Lyra and Ayden, then looked to the king and inclined his head. King Lorn nodded in return and stepped forward.

"Today marks the dawning of a new and blessed year," the king began. "Archenland is pleased to provide the most legendary artifact of both Narnia and Archenland a sanctuary. With Archenland's deepest gratitude and respect to Sir Galen of the Lion's Redemption, We declare this gallery formally christened, and the New Year officially welcomed."

Applause filled the throne room, and the crowd began to disperse.

Lyra turned to speak to Galen, but found him gone. One pair of dark green eyes did see where Galen disappeared, however.

"Aren't you coming to the New Year's celebrations, Juliana?" One companion inquired

"I shall be there presently, Catherine," Juliana replied.

Her friend left to join the celebrations, and the green-eyed girl left by the side door, and climbed the stair to the parapet where Galen stood gazing over the forest.

"A happy New Year, Sir Galen," Juliana greeted as she stood beside him, leaning on the parapet. The wind blew her long black tresses around her shoulders and rustled the sleeves of her green silk dress.

"I suppose so, my lady," Galen replied.

"Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Lady Juliana, daughter of Parliament's Lord Kellan."

"A pleasure, my lady."

"Thank you. I fear I must offer an apology on behalf of my father. His request that you play the troubadour and entertain the court with a tale so painful to you was uncalled for. I hope it has not blighted your impression of Archenland."

"No, it has not, Lady Juliana. I thank you for your concern," Galen replied.

"I could not help but overhear your description of escaping the Telmarines. Does your injury still cause you pain?" Juliana inquired sympathetically, laying a hand lightly on his shoulder. Galen tensed at her touch, but averted his gaze to the horizon.

"Princess Lyra was very skillful in healing my injury. It is still a little sore, but I have gotten used to it," Galen replied, still looking out on the forest.

"How very heroic of you to say."

"Nay, my lady. Being shot only sounds heroic until it happens to you. Then one feels a proper fool. A miserable one at that."

"Oh, you are so very hard on yourself, sir. You need not be. It did not seem to hamper your archery yesterday," Juliana began.

"I must apologize, my lady. I beg your pardon, but I am afraid I am not feeling very well."

"Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"No, my lady, although I thank you for the offer."

"Will you be at the New Year's ball?" Juliana interjected as he turned to the stairs.

"Perhaps, my lady."

"I look forward to speaking with you again," she finished with a quiet smile. Galen did not reply, but returned the smile politely and inclined his head before descending the stair to the courtyard.

The emerald-clad lady leaned her back against the wall, and after Galen disappeared from sight, a cunning smirk briefly crossed her face. Her calculating eyes looked out on the courtyard a moment before she descended and joined her friend, who was waiting for her.

"Well, Juliana?" Her friend inquired.

"I think my campaign is off to a good start, Catherine," Juliana replied slyly. "Keep your ears alert, my friend, as only you know how. Let me know what you find out."

"Of course," her friend smirked a little and began to move away.

"Oh, and Catherine?"

"Yes?"

"Make sure the girls know to back off," Juliana finished in steely tones.

* * *

Author's Note: Let me know what you thought! And don't worry: the Stone Knife will reach Aslan's Table. Eventually. ;)

Please, please, please review!


	15. Chapter14: Schemes, Stars, and Pomposity

Author's note: So much for prompt updates. My apologies. Christmas can't come soon enough for me.

Thank you very much to all my reviewers. Your input is greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: Narnia isn't mine, no copyright infringement intended, etc. etc.

* * *

Chapter the Fourteenth: Of Schemes, Stars, and Pomposity

_1 Mayblossom 2076_

Galen made his way back to his room after taking leave of Juliana. After staring out the window a moment or two, a wonderful idea sprang into his head. Galen quickly changed into plainer clothing, strapped on his sword, and picked up his satchel and bow and quiver. He exited his room and made unobtrusively for the kitchen. All the kitchen staff were so busy preparing for the New Year's feast that no one noticed the Narnian's presence. There he filled the satchel with some fruit, a couple of meat pasties, some small raspberry tarts, and a container of water. After spending the better part of a month in Anvard, Galen had learned the layout of the castle and now knew how to move largely unobserved if he so chose. Galen took advantage of this knowledge, and in a few minutes he was walking through the forest, Anvard's trying inhabitants far behind.

The day really was beautiful, he thought as he walked along. Warm sunlight filtered through the bright green canopy of leaves above him, and birds sang from almost every branch. Spring flowers clustered around tree trunks, and every time a cool breeze tousled the leaves it revealed a sliver of brilliant blue sky. Galen continued walking, recognizing a particular boulder here, a broken branch there. After a little while, he came to a familiar little waterfall and climbed up the worn rocks beside it. Reaching the top, Galen took a deep breath and smiled. Lyra's glen looked so wonderfully peaceful.

He walked beside the pool a moment, gazing up at the mountain beyond the waterfall, then stood beside the willow tree and looked up: the branches were perfect for climbing. He hoisted himself up to the first branch and climbed up until he found just the right branch: sturdy and well-connected to the trunk, with a curtain of long willow leaves opening to a perfect vantage point over the entire glen from the entrance to the waterfall. Galen settled himself on the branch and neatly hung his satchel, bow, quiver, and sword belt on the branch above him. He took a deep breath and let out a contented sigh. It was not his oak tree, but it would do quite nicely.

Galen rested for a moment, tranquilly absorbing the muted roar of the waterfall and the cool breeze that rustled the willow leaves. He did not know whether that moment lasted a minute or an hour, but with each passing second Galen felt as though Anvard's many troubling and meddlesome things drifted farther away. After a little while, he reached for his satchel and pulled out a little flute that he had always loved to play. Wild, free-spirited music filled the little glen, and even the air seemed to dance to it.

In this way he spent quite some time, playing his favorite tunes. As he was intently playing a slow, thoughtful air, Galen began to realize that his flute was not the only sound in the glen. Now, he could hear the clear strains of a lyre floating through the willow leaves, playing in compliment to his flute (which he now abruptly stopped playing). The poor Narnian nearly jumped out of his skin (losing his precarious balance in the process) when he looked down and saw Lyra sitting on a branch just below him on the other side of the tree, lyre in hand.

"I was wondering when you would notice that you had not only birds for company, Sir Galen," Lyra said, smiling mischievously.

"Oh, I, uh, did not see you, my lady," Galen stammered as he found his balance again.

"Clearly!" said Lyra, laughing. "When I did not see you anywhere in Anvard, I thought I would find you here. I could barely stand the lot of them myself."

"Well," Galen began, a trifle embarrassed, "I always used to amuse myself with my flute in my oak tree back home. I suppose it is a habit."

"A habit well worth continuing, good sir! I've never heard music so full of joy. The woods seemed to fairly dance to your tunes, and the birds have never sung so cheerfully. You've brought the forest alive."

"I just could not bear to stay in the castle for another minute. I am not used to so many people. Singularly dreadful people at that." Galen grimaced as he tucked his flute into his satchel and pulled out the little napkin he had smuggled out of the kitchen, offering some of the tasty contents to his newfound companion, who happily accepted, remarking that Galen had prepared for a siege.

"Well, I suppose you cannot be too careful. Bothersome, aren't they?" Lyra chuckled as she climbed up to a branch on the same level as Galen's.

"Quite. I ran into a different one earlier, though. She was less giddy than the others and actually tried to make conversation. Something was not quite right, though. Simply being near her made my stomach turn, made me feel as though I was about to find myself ambushed rather than carrying on innocuous conversation," Galen explained, shuddering slightly. Lyra raised an eyebrow knowingly.

"Let me guess. You have made the acquaintance of Lady Juliana."

"Indeed," he replied, surprised. "Is she always like that?"

"Lady Juliana's greatest disappointment is not being in a position of particular power. As a result, she uses whatever means she can to get what she wants through manipulation and deception."

"What could she want with me, my lady?"

"What could she want?" Lyra scoffed. "Why, she means to make a husband of you, of course. Whether you like it or not, Sir Galen, you are in a position of prominence and influence. Imagine what a feather in her cap it would be to have conquered the great, and possibly last, Narnian knight, a knight whose opinion the king values, and whose opinion she could thereby influence."

"I don't think I like the sound of that," Galen grimaced.

"As well you shouldn't. A year ago Juliana had the same designs on my brother. She is a skillful manipulator, but eventually her plan to become Archenland's future queen failed rather miserably, I am afraid," Lyra replied, grinning. "I try to ignore her now, and I cannot see her as a legitimate threat. The girl cannot shoot or parry for all the rubies in Calormen!"

"It seems she does enough damage without sword or arrow," the Narnian shuddered.

Lyra nodded in agreement, fingers lightly strumming her lyre strings.

"I do not understand how you can bear to live in the midst of these people, my lady. So little kindness and so much scheming. So little, I beg your pardon my lady, so little intelligence among the lot of them!"

"You needn't beg my pardon, sir!" Lyra laughed. "I've spent a lifetime among such people, and sometimes I wonder that I have not lost my mind."

Galen chuckled.

"Surely, though, people cannot be so very different in Narnia than in Archenland."

"Well, my lady, it is not so much a matter of people. The Telmarine occupiers are human, of course, but Narnians, real Narnians, have very few humans among us. Why, my mentor and teacher was a centaur, and my friends scampered on four legs far more often than on two."

"Oh, I see! I had not realized that before, but of course! You must not be used to being near so many people, much less _these_ people. How dreadful for you!"

"Well, I suppose," Galen glanced northwards towards Narnia for the briefest moment, but returned his gaze and his mind to the present and picked up his flute with a smile. "Ah, but the day is far too lovely for such musings. Perhaps your lyre would like some company?"

"Indeed it would, sir!" Lyra answered, running her fingers across her lyre to produce a shower of shimmering notes. Galen's flute gave cheerful answer, and thusly passed a most pleasant spring afternoon.

The last golden rays of sunlight glanced over the treetops before the two grudgingly began to leave their sanctuary behind. The pair laughed and talked as they walked slowly back to Anvard, and finally the grey towers loomed above them.

"Oh!," Lyra exclaimed. "How could I have forgotten? There is another ball tonight, Sir Galen. In celebration of the New Year," Lyra mentioned as they approached the gate. Galen moaned.

"I wish there was a way to avoid those simpering girls!"

"Never fear, dear knight!" Lyra exclaimed, making an flourishing, exaggerated curtsey as her blue eyes twinkled with mirth. "I shall keep the hounds at bay!"

"Then this humble knight is ever in your debt, dear lady!" Galen replied, sweeping an overstated, gallant bow as his own eyes laughed silently in return.

* * *

The merry strains of dancing music floated from Anvard's Great Hall towards the stars strewn diamond-like across the indigo velvet sky. Inside the castle, warm light spilled from the windows along with the sounds of laughter as the Archen Court celebrated the arrival of a new and promising year.

However, one curl-adorned head was not spinning with merriment and music in the Great Hall.

"Is anything the matter, Juliana?" A girl in lavender satin inquired of the rather sullen figure clothed in blood-red silk and gold.

"The spoiled little princess has not left his side this entire evening, Catherine," Juliana replied tersely, her green eyes darkening and glaring over her wine glass as the blue-clad object of her frustration whirled with Galen to the lively music.

"Oh. I see."

"Lion's mane, does he not tire of her? She always messes things up! Every single time!" The green-eyed girl continued in her ranting as her friend tried to interject. "Have you found out anything today, Catherine?"

"Well, Juliana, I heard it from one of my most reliable sources that Sir Galen and the princess spent the afternoon Aslan-knows-where out exploring the forests and only returned a few hours ago."

"Catherine," the crimson-clothed girl began in even, steel-laced tones, her eyes darkening even more (if that was possible), "this is not acceptable. She has interfered with me for the last time."

"Oh, Juliana?" Her companion asked, a much too eager glint entering her pale eyes. "What have you got planned, this time?" She finished excitedly, almost greedily.

"Well, if my little campaign fails to catch him at tonight's ball, I shall come up with something intriguing to occupy our dear Princess's time. Yes, Catherine, do let your scheming mind begin thinking. I shall return presently," Juliana replied, her eyes no longer dark with sulking as the characteristic cat-like glint came back into them.

At this moment, Galen and Lyra had ceased dancing for a little bit and stood sampling the finger food and chatting.

"What sort of bow to you prefer, Sir Galen?"

"Oh, I have always been partial to a good longbow, but a recurve is not bad at all when mounted."

"I agree. My longbow has ever served me well, but my recurve is just the thing when hunting on horseback. What about crossbows?"

"Dreadful things. I've only tried to use one once, and it was so ridiculously bulky and difficult to reload. Why, my enemy would be upon me in a trice before I could reload!"

"Oh, certainly," Lyra laughed. "They aren't about to win any awards for speed and agility."

Galen smiled, but did not reply as he had taken a rather large bite of a most delicious cookie.

"Sir Galen," Lyra glanced over his shoulder, then began in lower, more measured tones, "Our little scheming lady is approaching, and very likely means to get you to herself. If you, my good sir, would rather that not happen, just follow my lead."

Galen nodded, as an unexpected knot of nervousness settled in his stomach. A moment later, Lady Juliana slipped into their company.

"Good evening, Sir Galen, your highness," she greeted.

"Good evening, Juliana," Lyra returned, and Galen nodded (he was still finishing the last bite of his cookie).

"'Tis a lovely ball, and a lovely new year, is not?" Juliana began in a relaxed manner.

"Indeed, my lady," Galen finally answered.

"Ah, but your highness does us a disservice," Juliana began in jesting tones, looking at Lyra.

"I am sure I have no idea what you mean, Juliana."

"Why, in keeping the good Sir Galen to yourself for so long, of course," Juliana replied with a smile.

"Oh, of course, my lady Juliana," Lyra returned, "but the time flies so fast, you see, and I am afraid Sir Galen has just requested the next dance. If you will excuse us," Lyra finished, nodding to Juliana and extending a hand to Galen. The pair danced away from Juliana, and Galen sighed with relief.

"That was not too bad."

"Oh, that will not work again, I am afraid," Lyra replied as they continued the waltz. "Juliana can get very pushy."

"That does not sound promising, my lady," Galen said. "As loath as I am to admit it, I fear her more than the whole of Telmar!"

Lyra laughed. "'Tis no mystery why, good sir. All Telmar's weapons are of steel, while hers are far more subtle. You need not worry, Sir Galen. If she comes again, just remember our little plan," Lyra finished with a carefree smile.

"I shall," Galen began, but stopped mid-sentence. "It seems we shall have need of the plan far sooner than expected."

A moment after he finished speaking, Juliana came from behind and lay her gloved hand on Lyra's arm.

"By your leave, your highness."

"Of course, my lady," Lyra returned with a nod, then moved back to the refreshment table and picked up her wine glass.

Meanwhile, Juliana and Galen continued dancing.

"I hope you are enjoying the Archen Court, Sir Galen," she began.

"Indeed, my lady, it is a unique experience."

"Ah, yes, indeed. The pinnacle of civilization, it has been called."

"Yes, well, I….." Galen clutched his side and trailed off into a moan, coming to a halt and half collapsing a moment later. Juliana let out a slight shriek.

"Sir Galen, what ails you?"

Galen, head bowed, did not reply. Lyra stood beside him in a flash, her healer's instinct ever present. Putting an arm around him to help him stand, she started when her fingers came away stained with red. Juliana looked on, a slight expression of horror on her face.

"What happened?" The startled lady asked.

"It seems the dancing has re-opened a wound from the battle," Lyra answered, helping Galen stand.

"I'll be alright, my lady, I just...hmmm," Galen trailed off into a slight moan again.

"Come now, sir, you have had enough excitement for one night, I warrant," Lyra chided.

"Is he going to be alright?" Juliana inquired.

"Yes, my lady. Sir Galen merely needs to rest."

"My thanks for the dance, Lady Juliana," Galen said, inclining his head with a wince. Juliana returned a curtsey and expressed her hope that he would feel better soon.

Galen and Lyra moved away and exited the Great Hall, walking towards the infirmary. Once they were finally out of sight of any passersby, Lyra stopped the pretense of helping him and the both of them almost collapsed in a fit of laughter.

"Did you see her face, my lady?"

"Indeed. The silly girl knows not the difference between blood and a little spilt wine," Lyra laughed in return, holding up her stained fingers, which were more purple now than red.

"I do feel a little bad, though, tricking her so."

"Oh, do not feel thusly, my good sir. We gave her but a tiny taste of the foul dish she has served out in exceeding abundance."

Lyra and Galen kept walking out on the parapet. While the merry ball continued, the two spent the rest of the evening gazing at the stars from the southeast turret.

"Methinks we have the better part of this night, my lady," Galen remarked as he stared up at the shimmering bands of light spread out on the darkened canvas before them.

"Indeed," was all Lyra said in reply, taking a deep, contented breath of cool air.

In this way passed a space of time in contented silence, until the light from the windows below began to taper off and the two realized the hour grew late.

"I did want to thank you, my lady Lyra," Galen began as they walked back into the castle.

"Oh, 'twas nothing, my good sir. I quite enjoyed bursting Juliana's petty little bubble," Lyra replied with a smile, which Galen returned. "I will warn you though, sir, that I will be calling in the favor," she continued. "I was not jesting last week when I mentioned the Calormene ambassador."

"I am at your disposal, fair lady," Galen bowed with a flourish and a grin. Lyra laughed in return.

"Then it shall be I who will be indebted to you in a little space of time. Calormenes make Juliana look almost pleasant."

"Then it sounds like it shall be interesting, for sure," Galen answered. They continued walking, and presently approached Galen's room.

"Good night, my lady," Galen began, taking Lyra's hand and kissing it lightly. "And thank you."

"'Twas my pleasure," Lyra replied, inclining her head and smiling sincerely. "Good night."

* * *

"Catherine!" A sharp voice echoed on the fire-lit stone walls of a richly decorated bedroom.

"Juliana? What is the matter, friend?"

"I trust you know what happened. We must resort to a more offensive strategy."

"Yes, that was unfortunate for Sir Galen to collapse at so inopportune a time."

"Indeed, but our battle is not over yet. I can still get my little Narnian, if only our _dear_ princess will get out of my way," Juliana fumed, contempt filling her voice as she referred to to Lyra.

"What can be done, though?"

"We will just have to make her get out of the way." Silence filled the room for a moment.

"Ah!" Catherine exclaimed. "I had almost forgotten! The ambassador from Calormen arrives on the morrow. Word has it that he is a moderately high-ranking prince, and has had an eye on our dear princess for some time."

Juliana's eyes lit up greedily at Catherine's words. "That will do nicely, Catherine! We mustn't let the good Calormene prince go away empty-handed, after all."

* * *

_2 Mayblossom 2076_

"There they are!" Ayden pointed to the east where several bright red pennants emerged from the forest.

"I wish they weren't," was Lyra's response. "Calormenes," she wrinkled her nose.

"Come, now, sister, it is only the ambassador. He'll not bother you."

"Nay, you underestimate him, brother. The ambassador has been replaced with one of the Calormene princes - Prince Karim."

"Oh," Ayden answered, wincing.

Trumpets blared from the turrets.

"We had best go meet our guests."

* * *

Galen, Ayden, and Lyra entered the Great Hall together and took their places in the Court. A single clarion announced the Calormenes' arrival. A moment later a richly arrayed procession entered Anvard's Hall and approached the dais where King Lorn and Queen Leila sat. Brilliant purples, crimsons, canary yellow, and cerulean blue flashed from every person who entered. Jewels and feathers, velvet and organza, gold and silver proclaimed with usual pomposity the arrival of a prince of Calormen. The prince himself entered a moment later and approached the dais, the members of his party bowing as he passed. He wore a bright red tunic heavily embroidered with gold scrolling patterns, yellow trousers, and instead of boots he wore a pair of curious bejeweled slippers that turned up at the toe. The prince was tall, with dark eyes and even darker hair, and around his neck hung a long golden chain, from which was suspended a large ruby.

The prince stepped up towards the dais and bowed in the Calormene fashion.

"Prince Karim, it is Our pleasure to welcome you and your entourage to Anvard," King Lorn began. "We trust your highness's travels passed well?"

"Your majesty is most kind. Indeed our travels through your majesty's lovely land passed most pleasantly, but the kindness of your majesty's welcome brings relief from the passing fatigue of the road. As the poets declared, "By gracious words does a host give succor to the weary.""

"Indeed." Queen Leila replied. "May I present Prince Ayden and Princess Lyra?"

Ayden bowed and Lyra curtseyed in turn, as Galen watched with raised eyebrows. This prince was an interesting little figure, to be sure.

Prince Karim bowed again. "Prince Ayden, it is most agreeable to see you again. Princess Lyra, I would travel the desert a hundred times over to have the pleasure of seeing your lovely smile again."

"As eloquent as ever, I see, your highness. My thanks," Lyra replied, cooly inclining her head.

Galen fought back a stubborn chuckle. Just as he managed to transform it into a relatively unobtrusive cough, King Lorn introduced him to the object of his amusement.

"Prince Karim, may I introduce your highness to Archenland's friend, Sir Galen of Narnia?"

Galen bowed, a gesture returned by the prince.

"I am sure your highness must be weary," King Lorn continued, motioning for a servant. "Show the prince and his entourage to their quarters."

With a bow and a flourish, the Calormene prince left the room and his colorful entourage followed. The Court adjourned and the Archen nobles dispersed.

"I see what you meant about Calormenes, my lady. Frilly, pompous fellow, isn't he?" Galen remarked.

"If only that was the worst of his faults," Lyra replied quietly, turning towards the courtyard and absentmindedly grasping her sword hilt.

Looking back as the last feathered person disappeared around the staircase corner, Galen thought that he had never been more thankful to _not_ be something than he was right now.

* * *

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!


	16. Chapter 15: An Unexpected Adventure

_AN: Merry Christmas, dear readers! So much has happened this semester that I had hardly the chance to catch my breath, but with Christmas comes the opportunity to write. This chapter took me in a different direction than I expected, but it does further my intended themes and overall plot, so it isn't altogether pointless. I hope you all enjoy it!_

_Disclaimer: For the record, I do not own Narnia (pity), and no copyright infringement on those who do is intended._

Chapter the Fifteenth: An Unexpected Adventure

* * *

The next morning dawned clear and cool, sunlight filtering through the treetops to greet the bright ring of steel on steel as it echoed against Anvard's stone walls. At this early hour, although the rest of Anvard preferred to slumber, Archenland's prince and princess practiced. Parry and strike, now forwards, now back-the brother and sister swung their swords with the measured movements that evinced years of training. A hint of a smile played at the corners of the brother's lips, his dark green eyes calm, even serene, despite the swift movements of his keen blade. His sister smiled unreservedly and her eyes sparkled with azure fire-confident and unafraid, focused on each precise strike and reveling in the thrill of combat. On mornings such as these, time seemed to stand still, and the sun hesitated to burst in full golden radiance above the tree tops.

Slowly, though, Anvard awoke, and the clear ring of the blacksmith's hammer joined the ring of the siblings' swords. As Archenland's knights began to enter the grassy area beside the castle, Ayden and Lyra called a truce.

"Well-fought, brother," said Lyra as she replaced her sword in its scabbard.

"Likewise, sister," Ayden returned, an uncharacteristically impish grin on his face as he reached over and tugged the end of Lyra's golden braid as she turned away.

"Ow! Ayden!" She cried, rewarding her brother's impudence with a swift hit to his arm.

"Lyra, that hurt!" Her brother protested.

"As well it should have! Pray tell, what else didst thou expect, brother?" Lyra returned with a broad smile.

"What else, indeed. Good morn, sister, I had best see to the knights' drills before the morning grows late," replied Ayden, giving Lyra a quick hug before running off to join Anvard's knights.

"Good morn, my lady!" A cheerful voice hailed, and Lyra turned towards its source.

"Good morn, Sir Galen!" She returned as the Narnian entered the yard.

"Quite a fearsome pair you two make, my lady," Galen remarked, to which Lyra smiled.

"There is still time before breakfast. Would you care to join me in practice?"

"I would like nothing more, my lady," Galen replied, smiling.

"Wonderful!" returned Lyra, drawing her sword and holding it in salute. Galen drew his sword as well, returning her salute. The sun flashed off Lyra's blade as she swiftly dropped the salute and struck towards Galen. With the resounding peal of steel meeting steel, he parried the blow and made one of his own, and a duel was on, blades a-whirling.

"You certainly do not play at trifles when it comes to swordplay, my lady," he commented as their blades locked together for a moment. Lyra merely smiled, broke the contact of their swords and swung again, slashing towards the side. Galen met the strike and attacked in turn, and a good amount of time passed in this manner, neither making headway. Then, Galen seized a second's opportunity, twisting his sword around in a trick of Narnian swordplay that caused Lyra's sword to fly from her grasp and herself to fall down.

"Yield, my lady?" Galen asked, grinning triumphantly. Lyra looked back at Galen from the dirt, fiery eyes refusing to admit defeat. Before Galen could realize it, she twisted her legs around and swept his feet out from under him. Quick as a wink, she seized her own sword, regained her footing and pinned down Galen sword arm with a foot.

"Never!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "Yield, good knight?"

Galen smiled, and inclined his head. "Well played, my lady. I yield."

"Then I will let you up on two conditions-first, that you teach me that trick you used, and second, that you call me by my name," she replied, smiling.

"Agreed, Lyra, as long as, of your courtesy, you do the same as regards myself," Galen agreed.

"Very well, Galen. Well-fought!" Lyra replied, removing her foot from his sword-arm, sheathing her sword, and offering a hand to help him up. "I've never encountered the technique with which you disarmed me. Is it uniquely Narnian?"

"Yes. More specifically, it is unique to the Centaurs. You have a nifty trick of your own, though. I must confess it was quite unexpected."

"Aye," Lyra laughed, "it has saved both my life and my pride on many an occasion. All you have to do is brace against the ground, angle yourself away from the direction of the swing, then swing a leg with all the weight you can manage and strike directly behind your opponent's knees-they cannot help but fall."

"Ah, I see," Galen replied. "The trick of swordplay I used earlier was one of the favorite techniques of my teacher, Swordmaster Achaicus. It takes a fair amount of practice to master, but is well worth the effort," Galen continued as he began to demonstrate, and all too soon the morning began to slip away.

"Thank you for showing me, Galen. I must attend to the drills of the archers, now, before the morning waxes late," Lyra spoke after a while.

"Certainly. Good match!"

"Indeed. Good morning!"

Lyra returned her sword to its sheath, picked up her bow and quiver from where they stood beside the courtyard wall, and made her way towards the archery practice field. After she had gone, Galen began walking absentmindedly, finding himself walking on the east parapet and staring out across the forest, deep in thought, admiring the morning. After a little while, he became restless and began walking the interior of the castle, finding himself outside the room of the Stone Knife. From within, he could hear the low murmur of a voice. Puzzled, Galen hurried inside, and what he found astonished him. A woman was kneeling on the floor, her head bowed, murmuring what sounded like a prayer.

"Oh!" The woman started when Galen entered, eyes wide with fear, and threw herself on the floor at Galen's feet. "Forgive me, my lord! I know I should not have entered the castle without invitation, but I was so desperate for help, and, I..."

"Peace, my lady!" Galen exclaimed, confused, and the woman stopped speaking but did not pick herself up. The Narnian knelt down on the floor next to her and helped her sit up. "Here, now. You need not treat yourself thusly. What on earth has frightened you?" He asked.

The woman stood, avoiding his gaze, and Galen noticed immediately that she was not of the Anvard court-her brown dress was worn and plain, and her dark hair was tied behind her head with a worn leather strip. The boots on her feet were splattered with mud and cracked with age and wear.

"I am sorry, my lord. Please, let me go," she pleaded.

"Who are you, and why are you frightened of me?" Galen further inquired, as confused as ever.

"My name is Tira, and I am from the village near Anvard. I know I should not have dared enter the castle, but there have been stories told of the Stone Knife in the villages-that it could help those who had no hope. I am such a person, so I came here to pray so that the Stone Knife could help me. I thought you were a guard come to drag me away."

"Nay, lady, I would not drag you away. But the Stone Knife is merely an object," he continued, puzzling, "what good could be gained from praying to it? Who would spread such tales? The Stone Knife is a very special thing indeed, but it has neither mind nor breath nor power of its own."

The woman began to shudder, and tears rolled down her cheeks. "Then I am truly without hope."

"Tell me of your troubles," said Galen gently, taking one of her hands in his. Tira looked up, and briefly met his gaze before dropping her eyes to the ground again.

"My son was attacked by a wolf several days ago. The village healer has done all he can, yet still my dear little Brennan grows weaker by the day. The healer says he will not last the week," she finished, her voice heavy and eyes filling with tears again.

"How dreadful, lady, I am truly sorry," Galen replied. "Come-I will do what I can to help you. Save your prayers for Aslan," he continued after a moment.

Galen stood, helping her stand as well, and quickly walked towards the outside of the castle.

"Wait here. I'll be back in a moment," Galen said when they reached the practice yard. Galen hurried over to where Lyra was putting away the arrows and dismissing her archers.

"My lady, a moment?"

"Certainly, Galen," Lyra put down the quiver in her hands and joined him. "Is anything the matter?"

"I found a woman from a village in the Gallery of the Stone Knife. She says her little boy is dying, victim of a wolf attack, and I thought you might be able to help more than the village healer."

"Say no more, my friend," Lyra answered, seeing Tira beyond him. "Let me retrieve my supplies, and I shall meet you at the stables-if you would be so kind as to see to horses."

Galen nodded, and returned to Tira, as Lyra hurried into the castle.

"Take heart, Tira. Princess Lyra is a skilled healer and if anyone can help your son, she can."

Tira's eyes lit up hopefully. Galen smiled encouragingly and made his way, Tira in tow, towards the stables.

"Aiolos! Are you here, friend?"

"Galen! What a mercy you are here. By the Lion, it is so dull around here!"

"Care for an outing?" Galen asked, grinning.

"Anywhere is better than this stable," Aiolos snorted. Galen opened the stall door and Aiolos stepped out.

"Tira, I would like to introduce you to a friend of mine-Aiolos Swifthoof of the Shuddering Wood."

"Pleasure to meet you, lady!" Aiolos greeted, as Galen led Lyra's horse out of its stall and saw to its saddling.

Tira stood a ways back, eyes wide. After a moment, she shyly curtsied.

"Pleasure to meet you, master Horse." After a thoughtful pause, she turned back to Galen. "Then would you be Sir Galen, from Narnia?"

"Aye, lady," he answered simply, finishing his work readying the horses. At that moment, Lyra poked her head around the stable door.

"Ready, Galen?"

"Just about."

"Here-let me take Thunderhoof's reins," she offered, leading her horse outside the stable, and Galen, Aiolos, and Tira followed.

"Lyra, let me introduce you to Tira," Galen began.

"Your highness," Tira curtsied deeply.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, lady. I only wish it were under more pleasant circumstances," Lyra answered, nodding to the woman whose face took on a more somber expression, and mounted her horse. Galen followed suit.

"Come," Lyra extended a hand. "Ride with me. I will do everything I can to help."

Tira smiled shyly, grasped Lyra's offered hand and swung up behind her. Lyra spurred her mount onward, and Aiolos followed. The two horses galloped away from Anvard towards the south, through the greening forest for at least three-quarters of an hour, until they reached a little ridge where the foursome found themselves overlooking a village nestled in a little valley.

"My home is the house between the well and the smithy-the one with the daffodils beneath the window."

"A lovely home, lady," Lyra replied. "You walked a very long way."

"For a chance-any chance-of something to help Brennan, I would have walked twice, thrice, that distance."

"You remind me of my mother, when I was a mere foal," Aiolos whinnied in a wistful sort of chuckle.

The foursome continued to the specified house, where the humans dismounted and the horses stayed where they were. Tira opened the door and invited the visitors in.

"Tira! I've been worried sick, love! Where've you been?" A voice sounded, and a man hurried from a back room.

"Jonas, these have come to help Brennan. I could not sit by and watch him die," Tira replied, laying one hand on her husband's shoulder and motioning with the other towards Lyra and Galen.

"I should've known," Jonas chuckled, embracing his wife, eyes wet with unshed tears. Turning towards the visitors, he said, "Whoever you are, if you can help Brennan, you are welcome in our home."

"Princess Lyra, Sir Galen, please come," she entreated. Her husband was startled by the names, but kept quiet. Lyra followed, Galen behind her, as Tira led them into another room.

The room was dark, and a single candle flickered on the table beside the bed, sending shadows dancing across the rough surface of the wood paneled walls. On the single bed, covered in blankets, lay a young boy no older than ten. Tira knelt next to the bed and gently stroked the boy's forehead. In response, he turned toward her and moaned weakly.

"Mama?"

"Sshh, Brennan. Everything is alright. I've brought someone to help you feel better."

Lyra stepped forward and handed her satchel to Galen. Tira moved away, and Lyra sat beside the bed. Raising the back of her hand to the boy's forehead, her brow furrowed.

"He burns with fever. How long?"

"Four days now."

"How many wounds did the wolf give him?"

"Many. At least six great gashes and several severe bites."

Lyra did not reply, rather, she unrolled a bandage from the boy's forearm, revealing a nasty gash, teeth marks and signs of infection obvious. She took her satchel back from Galen and looked within it for a moment.

"Tira, could you bring a cup of warm water?" Lyra requested, looking back towards her.

"Certainly. I'll be right back."

Tira returned presently with the water, and Lyra dissolved a powder in the water.

"Here," she offered the cup to Tira. "Could you have him drink this? It will help him and I think he would take it better from you."

Tira complied, placing her hand behind his head. After he was finished, Lyra took Tira by the hand and led her outside the room.

"His wounds are severe, and the infection would have claimed him in two days' time. What I gave him will help him sleep, and allow me to better help him. You need rest too, though, lady. Have a cup of tea and rest a while. I will call you when I am finished."

Tira nodded, choking back tears.

"Do not worry, lady. Aslan will see him through," Lyra smiled encouragingly before returning to the room. Brennan lay fast asleep, his little hand in Galen's. The Narnian smiled at her and gingerly extricated himself from the boy's grasp. Lyra took his place beside the bed and bade him help her. She then set to work cleaning and re-bandaging the wounds as best she could. Once she finished, Lyra and Galen left the little room and rejoined his parents.

"How is he?" Tira asked quickly.

"He is resting peacefully. I have cleaned and bandaged his wounds to the best of my present ability, but he is far from well. If he is to have a good chance of surviving, he should return with us to Anvard. There I have more resources with which to treat him and ensure a good recovery. You would both be welcome to come with him, providing you wish to allow the journey.

"Of course," Jonas nodded, glancing at his wife. "Thank you."

"I'll go with Brennan," Tira addressed her husband.

"We'll both go," he countered. "I have no duties at the smithy that cannot wait, especially now. I will ready the horse and cart."

Tira nodded and hurried to pack a satchel, Lyra returned to the bedroom to ready Brennan, and Galen went outside to ready the horses.

"What of the young one, Galen?" Aiolos inquired.

"He is very ill. We are to take him with us to Anvard."

"I hope he will be alright."

"Me too," Galen replied, looking out to the forest. All of a sudden, he felt an eerie feeling that sent shivers up his spine. Disregarding it as the slight chill in the spring air, he walked back inside. Jonas had hitched the family's horse to a rough wooden cart half-full with straw, which was covered with several blankets. Galen ducked inside, where Tira was quickly extinguishing the candles and fireplace, and Lyra was carrying a blanket-wrapped Brennan out of the back room. Galen took Brennan from Lyra and placed him gently in the cart. Tira hopped in beside her son, while Galen and Lyra mounted their horses and the party began for Anvard.

In the quiet of the forest, the only sounds the creaking of the trees and cart wheels, Galen kept thinking back to what Tira had said in the Gallery of the Stone Knife-she had been praying, not to Aslan, but to the Knife that had seen His death. Galen knew not what to make of this, and puzzled for a while, a dark knot of unsettledness plaguing his mind. After a while, he felt the same eerie shiver race up his spine, and Lyra's horse momentarily shied away from the nearest tree.

"Galen, there is something stalking us," said Aiolos in a low voice.

"I was afraid of that, my friend. Something has not been right."

"Two, no, four. Now six. Six four-footed creatures," Aiolos counted, his superior hearing detecting the minute noises the animals made as they tracked the party.

"Lyra, to arms! We are being tracked," Galen warned in a low voice. Lyra's hand flew to her sword hilt.

Before she could reply, a great grey snarling mass of fur and teeth flew from the forest and plowed into the Archenlander, knocking her off her horse and to the ground with a ferocious growl. Simultaneously, several other wolves flew from the brush-one attacking Lyra's horse, which proceeded to bolt, and two others attacking Galen and Aiolos. Galen managed to draw his sword in time, striking the two wolves mid-leap as they tried to do the same to him as they had done to Lyra. The air filled with howls and cries as the other wolves attacked the cart. Jonas managed to keep the horse from bolting, and Tira brandished a knife in an attempt to keep the creatures at bay. Aiolos turned and hurried back towards the cart, and Galen slashed at one of the attacking wolves.

Lyra, meanwhile, struggled with her wolf, all her strength spent keeping the snarling mouth of teeth away whilst the sharp claws dug into her shoulder. With her other arm, she managed to reach the knife kept in her boot. A moment later, Lyra pushed the dead canine off of her and struggled to her feet as Galen finished off one of the wolves near the cart. He did not see the other behind the cart, and with a savage growl it leapt towards him. Before Galen could turn around, one last whimper rent the air as Lyra's now-airborne knife found its mark. As suddenly as the fracas began was it ended, and the forest was now eerily silent, save the belabored breathing of the humans and horses.

"This will not be the end, human," a gravelly voice broke the silence as the wolf nearest Galen struggled back to its feet, favoring its wounded side.

"You...you are Narnian Wolf?" Galen stammered, blade at the ready. "Why are you here, what happened that you would attack us, attack this little boy as well?"

"Humans are the enemy," he panted, yellow eyes glaring at its fellow Narnian. "They enslaved Narnia, enslaved us all. They deserve to die."

"Archenland did not enslave us. Why would you attack those who were our friends?"

The wolf shuddered with anger and snarled, falling back to the ground as its wound worsened. "My pack followed the Telmarine invaders south, and when we could terrorize them no more, we turned to exact retribution on those who did nothing to help us even as Narnia fell. Archenland," he panted, "is no better than Telmar. The deserve every thing we have given and more." The wolf's breathing became more stilted and shallow. "You, too, have betrayed us, human. Are...no...better...than...they…." the wolf gasped. His head dropped back to the mossy ground, fiery yellow eyes extinguished. The party looked on in astonishment, and Galen found himself staring at the wolf in horror, almost sick to his stomach.

"Galen," Lyra laid her right hand on his shoulder, "Let's go."

Galen glanced back at her and absentmindedly nodded. He moved away from the cart and re-mounted Aiolos, still distracted by the words of the Narnian wolf.

"It seems my mount has departed before us," Lyra remarked. "Good Horse, would you mind carrying another?"

"Not at all, lady," Aiolos inclined his head and Galen, shaking himself, reached down and grasped her left hand. A low, pained moan escaped her clenched teeth as she swung up behind him. Startled, Galen found his hand sticky with blood, and turned around to see her arm hanging limply beside her, the shoulder and sleeve of her green shirt darkened and wet.

"You're wounded!"

"The wolf got its claws into my shoulder before I could kill it. It is nothing that will not heal," she replied tersely, pressing a cloth from her bag to the gashes left by the wolf's claws.

As the sun reached its zenith behind the cloudy sky, the party continued its way to Anvard without further incident. They finally emerged from the trees and could see the towers of Anvard rising from the hills. In a few moments, the party entered the castle courtyard and a worried-looking figure hurried towards them.

"Sister, where hast thou been?" Exclaimed Ayden. "Your horse returned riderless an hour ago, and we knew not where you went!"

Lyra gingerly dismounted. "Do not worry, brother."

"Not worry? You are gone for half a day without telling anyone and come back wounded, your arm dripping blood, and you tell me not to worry?" Ayden fairly squeaked.

"Galen found a woman begging help for her son, who is dying of a wolf attack. We went to the village to help, and were attacked by the same rogue pack on the way back home. Now, please cease your hovering, brother. I am fine. The wound is not as severe as it may seem, and I have other matters to which to attend," Lyra answered calmly, maneuvering around Ayden and back towards the cart, thanking Aiolos for his help as she did.

"Danny!" she called for the stablehand. "See that these good people's horse and cart are well cared for."

The stablehand nodded and took the reins from Jonas. Galen was already back behind the cart, helping Tira unload their precious cargo, and Lyra joined them.

"Come, friends, bring him and follow me."

The boy's father picked him up and they began to make their way into the castle, up the stairs, and to the infirmary where Brennan was deposited on a soft bed in an inner room. Lyra then went back out to the hallway and addressed a guard.

"Please see to it that these good people are given chambers and anything that they require," she instructed, and the guard nodded in response.

"Do not worry, I'll make sure he is receives the care he needs, and he will be fine," she reassured with a smile.

"Thank you, my lady," Tira spoke suddenly as Lyra turned to re-enter the infirmary. She smiled in return, and the guard led the couple down the corridor as Lyra returned to the infirmary.

Galen was still there, leaning up against the wall.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.

"Thank you for offering, Galen. You could help me with the bandages," she replied softly, turning to the door of Brennan's room. She paused, however, hand still on the door knob and resting her forehead, eyes closed, against the door. Galen stood beside her and laid a hand on her uninjured shoulder.

"You should rest, my friend, and have your wounds attended before continuing on to help Brennan."

"Nay. He needs my help and my injuries can wait. I have endured worse on the battlefield and still managed to give aid to Archenland's soldiers."

"Lyra," Galen met her defiant gaze, "this is not a battlefield, and that boy needs you at your best. Besides," he smiled, "I recognize that excuse and manner as the one I use to disguise the severity of an injury and do what I like anyway, and I will not let you get away with it."

"Perhaps you are correct," she answered, "but I shall do as I like anyway," she looked back at him determined, but at that moment the infirmary door opened and Ayden entered.

"What, sister? Being stubborn as usual?" Ayden chided as he assessed the situation. Galen looked back at Ayden, exasperation in his eyes, and Ayden needed no more prompting.

"Come on, Lyra," Ayden put an arm around her waist and seized her right arm, pulling her towards the nearest cot despite her protests. "I'm as stubborn as you, and I'll not leave you alone until someone sees to your injury," he insisted, and she only glared. After calling for some of the other healers, he looked back at Lyra and chuckled. "You really do look a sight, sister."

"Always the encouraging one, brother," she replied wryly.

Ayden did not reply, and Galen could not help but smile. Two of the castle healers walked into the room, and Ayden instructed one to attend to Brennan and the other to Lyra.

"And don't let her do anything until that injury is properly tended and she had had a good cup of tea!" he added, turning to the door and motioning Galen to follow. The two boys stepped out into the corridor and began walking away from the infirmary.

"I say!" Ayden exclaimed, looking at Galen. "You're quite a sight, yourself! Have you had anything to eat at all today?"

"Come to think of it, we did leave before breakfast."

"Well, then it is no wonder. Come on, let's get some lunch and you can tell me of today's adventure," Ayden smiled and let the way down to the kitchens.

* * *

"...and that is all that happened," Galen finished, munching heartily on a biscuit.

"What an adventure, I daresay! I wonder that there was such a wolf pack roaming those woods. There have never been problems with such wolves before," Ayden puzzled.

Galen was about to reply when an unpleasantly familiar voice interjected.

"Prince Ayden, Sir Galen, I could not help but overhear. Wolves in these woods, attacking people?"

"Lady Juliana, of course, please join us," Ayden invited, although his voice lacked its previous warmth. "Sir Galen and my sister had a bit of an adventure this morning, defending a family from a pack of ravenous wolves."

"Oh, do tell, Sir Galen! I have never heard of wolves in these woods, and it sounds so exciting! Where is the princess, though? Is she not here with you?" Juliana inquired politely, her voice more hopeful and curious than concerned.

"She suffered wounds in the engagement, and is recovering in the infirmary," Galen replied.

"Oh, how dreadful for our dear princess," Juliana replied, her voice concerned but her eyes glinting cat-like, and the corners of her mouth turning slightly upwards in a sly smile. "I certainly hope you are alright, good sir. What happened?"

"Nothing of great consequence, my lady. We went to help someone who needed it, and the wolves will not threaten anyone again."

"How magnanimous and brave!" Juliana exclaimed, but before she could ask any more questions, Lady Catherine caught her eye. "I must beg your pardon, good sirs," she excused herself, and went to join her friend. Galen and Ayden took the opportunity to scoop up the rest of the biscuits and scurry away while they had the chance.

"Fabulous news, Catherine!" Juliana exulted once out of earshot.

"Indeed, Juliana. Most fortunate."

"Our dear princess is wounded and cannot cause us problems for a little while!"

"Do not underestimate her, Juliana. From my information her wounds were not too serious, and, knowing her, she will continue to cause problems, even tonight."

"Then we will have to make sure that she is otherwise occupied, Catherine," Juliana continued, unfazed. "I have been speaking with Prince Karim's attendants. Apparently, the prince specifically requested the duty of ambassador from the Tisroc in order to have the opportunity to court our dear princess. It will be no great difficulty to keep her occupied with him. If she is receptive to his advances, we have no problem. If she is not, we will have to ensure that the prince does not give up."

"A good plan, my lady," Catherine smiled slyly.

"Remember, Catherine," Juliana spoke, "what we do is not merely for my benefit but for the benefit of us all. Our fathers may have power, but we must secure it for us ourselves and the Narnian gives us opportunity to seize it. There is no telling what position he may attain, what power attain, and with my hand to further and guide that power, we will all advance, I promise you."

* * *

That evening the entire court gathered for a banquet of welcome for Prince Karim. Music and laughter filled the Great Hall as those gathered partook of the bounty. Galen sat between Lyra and a lady in purple at the great table, while Prince Karim sat across from Lyra and between Juliana and Ayden.

"How are you doing, my lady?" Juliana began concernedly, making conversation as everyone ate. "I am surprised to see you up this evening."

"Why should you be surprised, Lady Juliana? I am perfectly well," Lyra replied calmly, taking a bite of buttered bread.

"I had it on good authority that you were gravely wounded by wolves this morning," Juliana replied.

"Wounded, perhaps, but to call such wounds grave is an exaggeration at the least," Lyra scoffed.

"Oh, how terrible that you were wounded at all, my lady," Prince Karim exclaimed, "for so lovely a flower to be so cruelly torn by bestial claws. Had I been there to protect you, my scimitar would have put swift end to the wolves afore they could dare touch a hair on your head, my lady. Have not the poets written, "Tis sorrow for beauty to see pain, and the protection of beauty is a man's greatest honor"?" He continued grandly.

"I am sure the poets have written thusly, my lord, but I daresay they did not have me in mind in the writing of it. I assure you, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Were I not, I would not be sitting here," Lyra answered calmly and without looking up from her meal, although the tone of her voice took on a slight icy edge.

The Calormene continued to speak to Lyra, and Juliana took the opportunity to begin conversation with Galen.

"How do you like the festivities, Sir Galen?"

"I like them fine, my lady, although I would prefer something less formal."

"I can understand that. Is that why you have been wandering off of late? The court is beginning to chatter, I daresay!" she laughed.

"I suppose they have not much else to do."

"I suppose not. Say! I have an idea! I have been cooped up in this castle for so long, I would very much enjoy a ride about the countryside. Would you care to come with me?"

"Perhaps sometime, my lady, but I fear I have much to which to attend and may not be able to get away."

"We shall see, good sir!"

Outwardly, Galen nodded politely, but inwardly he was wishing for home and normal, decent people. 'Twas going to be a long night, he feared.

None too soon for Galen, the banquet party began to disperse and he found himself clustered with Lyra, Prince Karim, and Juliana outside the hall.

"I must bid you all a good evening," Lyra spoke, inclining her head.

"My lady, if you would permit me to see you safely to your chambers, it would be my honor to escort you," Prince Karim offered courteously.

"I thank you for your kind offer, my lord, but I will see you in the morning. I have other things which beg my attention at the moment."

"I look forward to tomorrow's dawning with even greater anticipation, then, if it carries with it the promise of seeing you once more," Prince Karim bowed, and turned to leave for his chambers.

Galen bade everyone else a good evening and hurried away before Juliana could speak to him again. Lyra, too, hurried away and turned towards the infirmary. As Juliana watched, Lyra faltered a little upon reaching the top of the staircase, her strength ebbing away as her wounded shoulder and the length of the day took their toll. Galen was quickly at her side, and Juliana found herself glaring as the two rounded the corner. Prince Karim noticed the brief episode as well, and Juliana took the opportunity to approach him unobserved by others of the court.

"Your highness, forgive my forwardness, but I could not help but notice your expression. Do not be discouraged by the princess's refusals. I know that she only says such things to preserve her reputation in the court and to test if you are as devoted as you say."

"Wise words, gracious lady, I thank you," the Calormene prince replied, eyes reflecting renewed determination as he bowed and turned to leave. The corners of Juliana's mouth flicked upwards in her cat's smile as she ascended to her room.

* * *

AN: _ I wish you all a blessed and happy Christmas. The next chapter is well on its way, so you should have another to greet the new year._

_Please review! It's the best Christmas present an authoress could receive!_


	17. Chapter 16: Miracle

AN: It seems I have an apt chapter name! I actually posted when I promised! Happy New Year, dear readers!

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia, you know the drill.

* * *

Chapter the Sixteenth: Miracle

The next morning Galen found Lyra in the infirmary with Tira and Jonas, checking on Brennan.

"How is he doing?" He asked, concerned.

"He holds his own. The next few days will see," she replied. "You are welcome to stay here with him, friends," she turned to the boy's parents. "I will return in a little while."

Tira nodded, and Lyra and Galen left the room.

"Have you had breakfast, yet, Lyra?"

"No. It sounds a wonderful idea."

The two of them found their way to the kitchens and took some food out on the balcony overlooking the castle courtyard. Ayden joined them shortly thereafter, and their laughter could be heard down the corridor as they happily conversed over biscuits and strawberry preserves.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Ayden spoke as they finished, "there is a picnic organized for the court today, and a ball for the Calormene prince this evening."

Lyra moaned and dropped her head in her hand.

"By the Lion, I despise these diplomatic visits!"

The two boys could not help but smile and chuckle.

"Mayhap it will not be so bad," Ayden suggested, a suggestion that earned him an blistering glare.

"Between Prince Karim's flowery overtures and Lady Juliana's irksome presence, it is a small wonder that any of us still have possession of our sanity," Lyra replied, and was met with laughter she could not help but join.

"I must admit, Lady Juliana does grate on the nerves," Galen agreed.

"You have my sympathy, Galen," Ayden remarked. "I, for one, am awfully glad not to have her after me any more."

"She did not have much of a choice, brother," Lyra smirked, and Ayden grinned.

"How did you get rid of her? Please, tell me, I beg of you!" Galen exclaimed, and the others laughed.

"She tried and tried to seduce poor Ayden, but after months of having her plans frustrated, largely by me, she fabricated claims with which to blackmail him into a wedding and, of course, a crown. We confronted her one evening-"

"And?" Galen asked hopefully.

"Well," Lyra replied innocently, "it ended with my dagger at her throat. She promised to leave Ayden alone and to retract every one of her trumped up charges."

The balcony erupted in a little explosion of laughter once again.

"I think I like the sound of that solution," Galen replied with a grin.

* * *

By mid-morning the members of the court attending the picnic assembled in the courtyard as servants bustled to and fro making preparations. In a little while, the grooms began leading horses out for the Archen nobles and Calormene prince, and the fancily clad bunch began to gingerly mount.

Lyra, Ayden, and Galen, however, were already mounted and joined the picnic party outside the castle courtyard as it began to take an easy pace through the grassy Archen fields. Lyra and Ayden both rode their chargers, while Galen rode Aiolos bareback and without any bridle or reins. In contrast to the gaudy bunch with them, Lyra wore a simple linen dress of a soft violet color with a darker purple vest-like bodice over it. As always, her sword hung by her side, and her quiver and bow hung on the saddle next to her. Unlike the other ladies of the group, Lyra did not ride sidesaddle, choosing instead to wear her more practical trousers and boots beneath the violet skirts.

Ayden and Galen were also dressed simply in soft shirts (green for Ayden and dark dusty blue for Galen), dark-hued leather jerkins, trousers, and boots. Both were armed similarly to Lyra, and watched the rest of the leisurely paced party with amusement.

"Quite the prissy lot, aren't they?" Galen snickered in a low voice to his two companions, who smiled and chuckled in response.

"They are always like that. It makes picnics so little fun," Ayden replied.

The threesome preferred a faster pace, and quickly reached the head of the column of nobles. As the slowed to keep from outstripping the party altogether, Prince Karim maneuvered his horse next to Lyra's and began to converse.

"Ah, Princess Lyra!" he greeted. "It is such a lovely day, is it not?"

"Indeed so, your highness," she answered politely.

"I have been looking forward to spending the day in your charming company, my lady, as the poets have said-"

"Say!" Galen interrupted, seemingly inadvertently, "I feel quite like a gallop. What say you, my friend?"

"Capital! Let's be off!" Aiolos replied and quickly increased his pace to a fast gallop that left the rest of the party behind. As Karim would never have expected Galen to be addressing his Horse, the Calormene was beyond surprised when the Horse answered him, and despite being renowned in Calormen for his horsemanship, he quite nearly fell off at the sound of Aiolos' voice. With the prince thus thoroughly confused and having forgotten all he had been planning to say, Lyra and Ayden took the opportunity to spur their horses on with a shout and gallop after the two Narnians. King Lorn and Queen Layla merely shook their heads in amusement, as Prince Karim tried to put the pieces of his mind back in order.

The adventurous threesome reached the picnic spot nearly ten minutes before the rest of the party. A party of servants had gone ahead of the picnic party and spread the lunch out on large blankets at the edge of the forest, under the shade of the trees and beside a babbling little stream. The three left the two chargers and Aiolos to graze, while they set to exploring along the stream. Eventually the rest of the picnic group arrived with a great busting noise, and the threesome reluctantly saw to their duty of joining them. Galen had the misfortune of being positioned too near to Lady Juliana.

"Sir Galen, of your courtesy, would you help me dismount?" she asked in a sweet voice.

"Of a surety, my lady," Galen reluctantly replied, unable to bring himself to do the discourtesy of refusing the lady, however irksome she may have been. The Narnian perfunctorily lifted the green-eyed Archen lady to the ground and quickly let go of her. However, she let her hands linger on his shoulders, leaned closer to him and gently kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, sir knight," said the cat-eyed girl sweetly, smiling angelically before turning to join the rest of the picnic party.

For his part, Galen felt his face grow hot with embarrassment and he quickly joined his friends, muttering, "Now why did she have to go and do that?"

Galen found himself sitting between Ayden and an archen lord about ten years his senior.

"You're a little sweet on that pretty little lady, aren't you, lad?" The lord said to him in a knowing, but thankfully low, tone, and grinned at Galen.

"I..I beg your pardon, my lord?" The poor Narnian was completely flabbergasted.

"Ah, do not try to pretend to me, sir. I saw you help her off her horse, and I can tell."

Galen found himself at a loss for words and glanced back towards Lyra and Ayden in desperation.

"With those emerald eyes," the lord continued, "and raven tresses, were I a few years younger I would have my eye on her as well."

Galen had not been thinking anything of the sort, of course, and strenuously objected to the lord's implication.

"I beg your pardon, my lord, I merely helped the lady off her horse out of courtesy and as she requested of me. I have no designs of such sort regarding her!"

"Of course, my good sir," the lord replied with a sly smile and a wink.

"Sir Galen!"

Galen never thought he would be so happy to hear the Calormene's voice.

"Yes, Prince Karim?"

"I have noticed that you did not bridle your horse or use any means of guiding it. I would be interested in learning what methods you use to train it so well."

"I beg your pardon, your highness, but Aiolos is not my horse, but a free Narnian citizen who needs no bit to guide him and has given me the honor of his assistance."

"I assume you have never met a Narnian Horse before," a voice spoke behind the prince, who jumped a little at the sound. Turning around, he found himself looking up at the broad face of the Horse himself, who whinnied in laughter and moved off to graze some more.

Although thoroughly discomfited, Prince Karim turned back to the rest of the party and began to converse with Lyra once more.

The party began to head back at a leisurely pace around mid afternoon, although the end could not have come soon enough for Galen. This time they were obliged to keep with the company for the ride back, and Galen was never so glad to reach Anvard's gates.

As they reached the courtyard and began to dismount, Prince Karim tried to help Lyra off her charger, but was not quick enough. To compensate, he caught up with her in the courtyard.

"My dear princess, I would very much like the pleasure of your company in walking the castle gardens," he asked with a little bow.

"I am afraid I must attend to other duties at the moment, your highness. Forgive me, but some other time," replied she.

"Of course, my lady," the Calormene replied, with a hint of frustration in his voice.

Lyra disappeared into the castle and took refuge in her chambers, curling up on the window seat with a book of exciting Archen tales. Her wounded shoulder had begun to throb after the afternoon of riding, and she had little patience to spare for the Calormene prince. The warmth of the sun coming through the window felt deliciously soothing to her, and she began to lose herself in her book.

Meanwhile, Galen spent the afternoon practicing archery and avoiding Lady Juliana until Ayden bumped into him in the kitchens as he collected some dinner.

"It seems we had the same idea, my friend," Ayden greeted, snatching a couple of fresh baked roll from the basket one of the kitchen maids carried past him.

"I could not think of facing a ball this evening on an empty stomach," Galen replied with a grin.

"Nor I," Ayden agreed, tucking some more of the good cook's wares into the little basket he picked up out of the corner. "I haven't seen my sister all afternoon, and as I suspect she has been hiding in her room, I'm going to make sure she doesn't forget to eat. Say! Why don't you join me?"

"Alright. I...forget to eat?" Galen replied incredulously after realizing what Ayden had said. "How could anyone forget to to eat?"

"I have no idea, but let's go before cook gets it in her mind to keep us from escaping.

The two scurried out of the kitchen with their spoils, and made haste up to Lyra's chamber. Upon reaching it, Ayden knocked on the door. When no response was given, he knocked again. Puzzled, the Archenlander balanced the basket in one hand and opened the door with the other.

"Lyra? Art thou alright?" He asked as he stuck his head around the door, concerned. "Oh, poor dear," he remarked, and motioned Galen to follow him.

They found her curled up on the window seat, fast asleep, her golden hair splayed against the cushions. One hand still held a book, and the other rested on her injured shoulder. Galen closed the door and took the basket from Ayden, who went over to the window seat. He brushed an unruly strand of hair away from his sister's face and rubbed her arm in an attempt to wake her.

"Lyra, wake up! We'll eat all the food if you don't," he called teasingly, but gently.

The princess awoke with a start, and before her brother could move she had pinned him up against the window seat wall, dagger poised to strike.

"Ay! Lyra! It's just me!" He yelped, and Galen could not help but laugh (and be glad it was not he who had tried to wake her).

"Ayden? Galen? What is going on here?" she asked, disoriented by the stubborn veil of sleep.

"Dinner is served, my lady," Galen replied, sweeping a bow with a mischievous grin.

"We couldn't bear the thought of facing all those pompous nobles at a ball without proper sustenance," Ayden added.

"I say! What a lovely surprise!" Lyra smiled, lowering her dagger and letting her brother go.

The three of them settled down to the impromptu meal, gathering around the table in the sitting area and proceeding to devour the hot rolls, cold turkey, and sweet apples.

"I don't think the picnic was so very bad," Ayden remarked as they ate. Galen promptly choked on the sip of water he had just taken, and Lyra looked askance at her brother.

"It's all very well for you, who doesn't have to deal with a bothersome would-be suitor who never ceases to quote some obscure poet's platitude," she retorted.

"Aye!" Galen added. "Juliana made me help her off her horse, and some lord noticed and now thinks I like her, of all things! I can't stand the girl!"

Ayden merely laughed. "I'll give Juliana credit in that regard: she does know how to use the courtesy a knight is obliged to extend to her advantage. As for the Calormene, sister, do not all Calormenes ceaselessly quote the poets?"

"Oh, what shall we do at this ball to avoid these, these weasels!" Lyra exclaimed, ignoring her brother.

"I say we treat it as a battle. Perhaps not a battle of sword and shield, but a battle of strategy and cunning, the first rule of which is to never leave your fellows' backs unguarded," Galen proposed determinedly.

"I most heartily agree! Ayden?"

"I'm game, sister," he answered with a mischievous smile, and the planning began.

* * *

Music filled the great hall of Anvard, and the moon's silver light streamed through the windows as Archenland's nobles once again set to making merry with drink and dance, this time in honor of the Calormene prince. Prince Karim stood by the side of the room with a goblet of wine in hand, having just finished a dance with Lady Catherine. As he took a drink from the goblet, he glanced up and saw Princess Lyra begin to descend the staircase to join the ball. She wore a long, flowing gown of cobalt blue and her hair hung in golden curls down her back. At first, Prince Karim noticed only her, but a dark look passed momentarily over his face as he noted that Prince Ayden and Sir Galen were accompanying her, one on either side. Both the Archenlander and Narnian wore their fine velvet tunics with their respective standards, and stood proudly as they entered the room.

Prince Karim approached the staircase with the intent of requesting the Archen princess's first dance, but (much to his frustration) as he watched the Narnian knight bowed, the princess curtsied, and they danced away before he could reach them. He reached the staircase a trifle too late, and encountered Ayden, who was making a beeline for the refreshment tables.

"Ah, Prince Karim! I have been meaning to ask your opinions on horses. I hear Calormen has some fine breeds," the Archen prince began as he filled a goblet with wine.

In the discussion that ensued, Ayden did a most effective job of occupying the Calormene with more or less useless prattling. As a result, for the next several songs, Galen and Lyra could relax and enjoy themselves.

Unfortunately, it was not to last. Lady Juliana approached and cut-in on Lyra, and Lyra had no choice but to oblige. Prince Karim noticed, but not before Ayden excused himself and claimed the dance with his sister. After a few minutes, Karim cut-in on the Archen prince and claimed the dance with Lyra. In turn, Ayden rescued Galen from Juliana, and in a few minutes Galen did the same for Lyra. Ayden did not much fancy dancing with Juliana, so when the dance was over, he decided to kill the proverbial two birds with one stone.

"Prince Karim, of your courtesy, would you help me?" he asked. "I had asked the next dance of Lady Juliana, but had quite forgotten that the king asked me to personally see to the food. Would you be so kind as to take my place?"

"A pleasure, o prince," Karim replied cooly, and bowed to Juliana.

Quite satisfied with himself, Ayden began his duty of "supervising" the food.

"It seems, your highness," Juliana spoke as she and Karim danced, "that we have both been frustrated in our designs this evening."

"Indeed, o most shrewd of ladies."

"Then, sir, we might as well work together. The princess stands in my way as much as the Narnian stands in yours." She paused for a moment, looking over the prince's shoulder towards the food tables. There she saw Lady Catherine engaging Prince Ayden in conversation. "There," she continued, "the prince will now be unable to interfere for at least a few minutes. Good hunting, your highness."

The dance concluded, and Juliana curtsied to Karim, then quickly claimed the next with Galen. Without Ayden to interfere, Karim claimed the next dance with Lyra, and the stalwart three found themselves again in unpleasant company.

However, fortunately, Sir Donovan had fancied a dance with Lady Juliana, and courteously requested her it of her at the first opportunity. Karim and Juliana swiftly found themselves in each other's company once again as Galen consequently requested Lyra's next dance.

"Here we find ourselves again, my lord."

"Indeed, I grow weary with the Narnian's interference and the princess's refusals."

"As do I, my lord, but I believe you have it in your power to correct that. When the king acknowledges your highness as is customary in balls such as these, make a request of him: the request of right of courtship. In such a public setting the king dare not refuse you, and then the princess will have no reason to disguise her feelings to save face in the court. On the contrary, she will be expected to give you consideration and both our problems will be solved."

"You are wise beyond your years, my lady. A most clever co-conspirator," Karim responded.

Galen and Lyra enjoyed the respite from their respective tormentors, but in a little while, the musicians stopped playing and the king stood and addressed the group.

"My lords and ladies all, I welcome you to this royal ball in honor of his highness Prince Karim of Calormen. Prince Karim, the people of Archenland welcome you in friendship."

"On behalf of the people of Calormen I thank you, my lord king, for the graciousness of yourself and your subjects. As the poets have said, "by gracious words does a friendship endure." I pray the gods bestow upon you long life and happiness. If I may be so bold, I have one request to make of you this evening," Prince Karim replied, coming to the front towards the king.

"Of course, your highness, anything I can grant you do not hesitate to ask."

"Since I first met your beautiful daughter, your majesty, it seemed to me the sun was dark in my eyes when I was without her company. I therefore declare my intention to seek her hand in marriage and request of your majesty the right of courtship."

A collective gasp went out from the crowd. Galen looked to his friend and saw her face had gone very pale and that she was holding herself very straight, clenching her fist as though grasping a sword hilt. Before he fully realized what he was doing, he found himself standing a little closer to her and putting a supportive hand on her shoulder. Lyra stiffened slightly, then relaxed under his touch and offered her friend a thin smile before turning and giving full attention to the words her father was speaking in reply to Prince Karim.

"...though I would gladly grant your request were it in my power to grant, I fear that the only one who can grant your request is the princess herself. What say you, Lyra?"

Lyra smiled at her father's words and stepped forward, steely resolve strengthening her anew.

"I am honored, Prince Karim. However, in fairness to your highness I must decline your request for the right of courtship. It is not a favor I bestow lightly. I offer my regrets and thanks," Lyra replied, inclining her head. Galen noticed that the prince looked nothing less than shocked, and then his face began to harden even as he returned Lyra's bow graciously. "Now musicians, to your instruments! A ball is not for talking, friends, but for merriment!" Lyra exclaimed, and withdrew into the crowd, which happily began to dance once more.

"Well done, Lyra," Galen remarked with a nod and smile as she joined him.

"I daresay I was never so surprised in my life. Oh, but I'm glad that is over."

"Would you fancy a dance, my lady?" Galen asked, bowing slightly, but with a grin still on his face.

"Indeed, good sir," she curtseyed in return.

Just as the dance ended, a page hurried up to them.

"I beg your pardon, your highness," the page addressed Lyra.

"What is the matter?" she asked.

"The infirmary head sends urgent word and requests you make haste."

Taken aback, Lyra thanked the page.

"That could only mean…" she mused, wide-eyed.

"Let's go," Galen answered without hesitation, and make haste they did.

* * *

Upon reaching the infirmary and Brennan's room, they found the head healer with Brennan's parents and another healer beside the boy. Jonas had an arm protectively around his wife, who was crying. The head healer turned and took Lyra aside as they entered.

"What is wrong, sir?" she asked.

"The boy grew very weak. I do not understand it, but he has not been conscious for hours and is barely breathing. I highly doubt he will make it through the night. I have done all I can. I am sorry, your highness."

"I see. Thank you for calling me. I will stay with him," Lyra replied resolutely, dismissing the healer. She took a seat on the stool next to the ailing boy's bed and laid a hand to his forehead. It was hot. Far too hot. From the rise and fall of his chest, Lyra could see that his breathing was far too stilted and shallow.

"What can I do to help?" Galen asked softly, sitting beside her.

"The head healer was right. He is burning even more with fever, and barely draws breath," she said dejectedly. "Please take the parents out of here. Encourage them if you can, but do not lie. Then, return as quickly as you can manage with several blocks of ice. The servants can help with that."

"Done," Galen replied and purposefully moved to leave, but Lyra caught his arm.

"And Galen?"

"Yes?"

"Pray."

Galen nodded solemnly and gently herded Jonas and Tira into the corridor. From there, he walked with them to their room and took a moment to pray with them.

"Aslan, I ask Your blessings upon these: that You will bring their dear child back to them safe. Keep this family always between Your mighty paws."

"We will do everything we can for Brennan, my friends," Galen said when finished, "but Aslan is the One who can do the most for him now. I will come get you if there is any change at all, you have my word."

Tira tearfully thanked him, and he took leave of them to go and find where they kept the ice. Galen soon bumped into a servant, who directed him to the icehouse. There, Galen enlisted the help of a three more servants, who helped him carry several tubs of ice up to the infirmary. As they entered the infirmary, Lyra directed them to break the ice blocks up and pour some into the shallow tub of water that now stood at a right angle to the bed. She turned back to her patient, whose wounds she had carefully re-cleaned, dressed with a salve that would help fight the infection, and re-bandaged. Lyra had been bathing the boy's forehead with a wet cloth, but now she put it and the bowl of water away.

"The ice is nearly all melted now," Galen informed her.

"Good," she replied. "Here-help me lift him."

Galen did as she asked, and they lifted him into the shallow tub.

"This is all I know to do," Lyra said quietly after a moment's silence. "I cannot bear to think that I -we- have brought this family hope, only to see it snatched away and myself helpless to stop it. He's so little, so innocent. He does not deserve this," she finished sadly.

"It is in Aslan's paws now. Let us trust in Him," Galen replied softly, sitting beside his friend and taking her hand in his reassuringly.

The music in the great hall died away, and the candles in the room began to burn down. The moon's silver light streamed through the window, then winked out as it dipped back towards the west. Lyra busied herself with tending to Brennan for some time, but there was only so much she could do, and after a while she, like Galen, occupied herself with prayer.

* * *

Meanwhile, Lyra and Galen were not the only two of Anvard's inhabitants still awake so late in the evening. A green-eyed Archen lady pondered the schemes she could make to assuage her defeat at the ball, and in his chambers a Calormene prince angrily paced.

"Your highness, please sit down! What troubles your eminence?" A nervous attendant asked.

"The humiliation she dealt me! In front of the entire crowd: I, fourth son of the Tisroc (may he live forever), prince of Calormen, and Tarkaan of the Three Lakes, spurned by an upstart, barbarian woman. I will not suffer this!"

"Oh exalted son-of-the-Tisroc (may he live forever), what can be done?"

"I will have the golden-haired barbarian princess for my own. Whether she likes it or not is her own affair. I will have satisfaction for the injury to my great esteem!" He continued to rant.

"How, oh-magnificent-one, will you accomplish such a goal?"

"I tire of your questions, dog! Bring me a pen and paper! Make haste!" The prince ordered harshly. The frightened servant complied, and the prince sat down at the desk and began to write hurriedly. Presently, he finished, folded the paper and affixed his seal.

"Bring me my jewel case!"

The servant did so, and he selected a sparkling emerald suspended from a golden chain.

"Now, take this letter and token to the Lady Juliana. Let no one see you, and if you breath a word of this to anyone, I will have your tongue cut out and fed to the vultures!"

The servant bowed profusely and did as he was told.

* * *

Lady Juliana had just decided to pick her planning up in the morning and retire, when a knock sounded at her door.

"What is it?" she answered it. A Calormene servant stepped into the room and bowed an odd little bow.

"My lady, the Prince Karim, exalted fourth son of the Tisroc (may he live forever) sends you this message and token. Juliana took the paper and necklace from the servant, and at the sight of the emerald her eyes lit up greedily. She opened the note and read its contents.

"You may go," she dismissed the servant. "Give Prince Karim my thanks and tell him that I will meet him tomorrow morning at his chambers."

The servant bowed and left, and Juliana, thrilled beyond measure at her good fortune, turned and read the message again.

_"Prince Karim Tarkaan, son of the Tisroc (may he live forever), to Juliana, Lady of Archenland, Greetings._

_As you doubtless are aware of the failure of my suit towards the Princess Lyra, I propose to your ladyship that we work together to accomplish our common goals. I still wish the Princess for my own, and in exchange for your help, I offer this token of my gratitude and, upon completion, a chestful of such jewels as are fit to adorn your lovely countenance._

_I ask you send word by my servant, and exercise the utmost discretion._

_Signed: Karim, Tarkaan of the Three Lakes and Prince of Calormen."_

* * *

As the eastern sky began to lighten with the dawn, the silence of the infirmary was abruptly broken.

"Say! What is going on?"

Both Galen and Lyra had been dozing slightly, but the little voice startled them out of the daze of sleep and they looked up. A comical little figure greeted them: Brennan was standing up in the tub, water dripping from his nightshirt and dark hair sticking out every which way, his head cocked quizzically and eyes bright with curiosity.

"Aslan be praised!" Lyra exclaimed, almost laughing with relief, and jumping up to fetch a big fluffy towel and a dry nightshirt.

"Good morning, there! I'm Galen," Galen said to Brennan cheerfully. "How are you feeling?"

"Wet," Brennan answered, nose wrinkling in disgust.

"Oh," Galen laughed. "Here you are!" He took the towel from Lyra and wrapped it around the boy.

"Where is this place?" He looked around and pulled the towel closer around him.

"This is the castle Anvard, and you're here because-" Lyra began.

"A castle? A real castle?" Brennan interrupted exuberantly, looking out the window and not really caring how he got there.

Lyra and Galen laughed.

"I'll go get his parents," Galen said with a smile.

"I'm awfully hungry!" Brennan declared.

"I'll bring back some breakfast while I'm at it then."

Galen ducked out of the room and quickly made his way to Jonas and Tira's room. Finding it empty, he hurried through the corridors looking for them. It then occurred to him where they might have gone, and he made haste to the Stone Knife Gallery. There he found them, sitting together on the floor, heads bowed in prayer.

"A joyous morning, friends!"

The two jumped at his voice, and started to their feet.

"Brennan is alright?" Tira's voice trembled with hope.

"Very much so," Galen replied, smiling. "I'll follow you in a moment."

"Oh, I knew the tales were true!" Tira exclaimed happily as they left the Gallery and quickly took to the stairs. Galen puzzled a moment over her words, then ducked into the kitchens to retrieve some breakfast.

A few minutes later, he returned to the infirmary with a tray carrying three plates heaped high with biscuits, butter, and jam along with a pitcher of milk and three glasses. He entered to find Brennan, dry and warm with bandages newly changed, squashed between his mother in father and squirming at their embrace.

"Ow! Mama, let go! Good grief!" The little voice protested, much to Lyra and Galen's amusement.

"I've brought some breakfast, friends," Galen announced, and placed the tray on a table beside the bed. At the announcement of breakfast, Brennan hurriedly broke from his mother's arms and tucked happily into the biscuits.

"We'll leave you to breakfast, then," Lyra addressed Tira and Jonas. "Thanks be to Aslan, he will be fine. I would think you could return home on the morrow."

"Thanks be to Aslan, His Stone Knife, and you both, indeed," Tira answered.

"What do you mean, lady," Galen asked at her mentioning, again, the Stone Knife.

"The tales I heard of the Stone Knife giving help to the hopeless was true! We spent the whole night praying, and at the dawn a bright, golden beam of light came through the window and lit the Knife's blue jewel brilliantly. I knew it was a sign, and you yourself came in only a moment later!"

"I see. Enjoy your breakfast, lady," Galen replied courteously and joined Lyra in the corridor.

"Breakfast?" He proposed when they were in the corridor.

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading! I'd appreciate your thoughts! Happy New Year!


	18. Chapter 17: Faith

AN: This chapter was entirely too much fun to write. I hope it is as much fun for you, dear readers. I am looking forward to writing the next ones. I do so love Christmas break! That, and my family decided to put in new floors and I have locked myself in my room to get away from the dust (I have found I am not a great friend of cement grinders). Anyway, it is a little shorter than the last, but I hope you enjoy it all the same.

_Disclaimer: Narnia isn't mine. See previous chapters._

* * *

Chapter the Seventeenth: Faith

_"For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast." ~Ephesians 2: 8-9_

_5 Mayblossom 2076_

A soft knock sounded at the door. A turbaned servant answered it and bowed lowly as Lady Juliana entered.

"Ah, my lady, how gracious of you to join me," Prince Karim greeted. "Pray be seated. Would you care for some spiced tea? It is how we begin a day in my land."

"How kind. I would indeed," Juliana replied, settling herself on the sofa across from the prince, who waved a servant forward. The servant placed a curiously wrought tea set on the coffee table and poured two cups, bowed, and left the room.

"See that we are not disturbed," the prince ordered.

"Have you considered my offer, my lady?"

"I have. I would enjoy nothing more than to see our dear princess in your arms and out of my hair. How may I be of service, your highness?" She answered with a sly smile, sipping the spicy tea.

"Can I assume, then, o gracious lady, that you have no great love of your princess?"

"She has given me no reason to hold her in high esteem, my lord, but has instead won my enmity."

"Indeed," the prince smiled. "Then you will have little qualm in doing what I ask. I will come to the point, my lady. I intended to make the princess my wife, regardless of her own desires."

"So an abduction it is to be, then," Juliana answered calmly, green eyes glinting with cunning as she took another sip of tea.

"I knew so clever a lady as yourself would have no trouble understanding. I would prefer to call it, though, a raid to claim the spoils of adventure befitting the Tisroc's (may he live forever) son."

"Then I have just the idea for you, my lord. Listen carefully…."

* * *

The morning passed uneventfully for Galen. After having breakfast with Lyra and Ayden, he found himself walking the battlements, pondering the words of Brennan's mother crediting the well-being of her son to the Stone Knife. Galen did not know what to think, but every time he thought of people praying to or worshiping, not Aslan, but an inanimate object (however special it was) he felt a dark knot of foreboding settle in his heart, whispering _this is wrong_.

The rest of the day also passed in like manner, and Brennan grew stronger as the day went on. Lyra determined that he was well enough to travel home that afternoon, and with great happiness and joyful farewells, the little family departed for their village. Galen, Lyra, and Ayden saw them safely through the woods in case there were more of the wolves still lingering there, and by supper time all had a marvelous appetite.

The court was joined for another state banquet, which progressed much better than Galen had expected. Prince Karim left Lyra alone, and Juliana left him alone, which suited Galen just fine.

Towards the end of the meal, Prince Karim stood up.

"O my hosts, I and my party thank you greatly for the hospitality you have bestowed upon us. However, I have regrettably received word that I am needed in Tashbaan and must return two mornings hence. Calormen extends its thanks and friendship."

"We accept both thanks and friendship, and Archenland extends such of her own. We thank you, Prince Karim, and send our wish that you have an untroubled journey," Queen Layla replied with a nod.

As dinner progressed, Galen thought he would be very glad to have the Calormenes gone.

* * *

_6 Mayblossom 2076_

Lyra, Galen, Ayden, and several other Archen knights were practicing early the next morning, and Ayden was in the middle of teaching Galen the skill of wielding two swords at once when a commotion reached their ears.

"I say, what is going on over there?" Ayden asked.

"I am sure I don't know," his sister replied, and Galen suggested that they go look.

Entering the courtyard, the three saw that the noise originated from a line of peasantry that stretched from the door of the castle.

"Good sir!" Galen called to one going to join the line. "A moment, if you please! Why is everyone gathering?"

"You've not heard, young master?" The farmer replied incredulously.

"Nay, we've not."

"Why, everyone is here to see the Stone Knife. Word has it that it saved the nation from invasion last month, and only yesterday healed a little boy on the brink of death! Such a wondrous thing, we've all come, that by catching a glimpse our troubles might be helped."

"I see," Galen replied, suddenly serious.

"Galen, what troubles you?" Lyra asked.

"They have credited the Stone Knife with miracles, and go to...to pray to it," he answered, voice confused. He looked up, eyes fiery. "This is wrong. I cannot prove it, but I cannot help but feel that this is wrong. Please excuse me, my friends," Galen finished, walked briskly to the stables, and ducked inside.

"Aiolos, would you mind taking a walk?"

"Of course not, my young friend. I've been cooped up in here for too long anyway."

The Horse and boy proceeded to exit the stable and walk towards the fields side by side.

"So, Galen, what is the matter in Anvard today?" Aiolos began after a moment of watching his young friend stare at the horizon.

"I have been wondering about many things today that trouble me."

"The wolves?"

"In part. They were Narnian. What could have possessed them to turn so, so savage?"

"I do not know. One thing I have been sad to observe in these years since the Telmarines invaded is that some of the Animals, so consumed with hatred, left the rest of the Narnians in hiding, becoming something between Talking Animal and savage brute. It is little wonder those Wolves acted thusly, and I fear what will happen to the rest of us if Telmar retains control of Narnia."

"Yet another thing Telmar has lain waste, then," Galen replied grimly, and Aiolos nodded silently.

"What else troubles you, young one?" The Horse asked after a moment.

"Well," answered Galen, turning to his friend, "the Archen Parliament has built a place for the Stone Knife to be kept, and-"

"Was not your goal to provide the Knife a place of safety?"

"Well, yes. But now people have begun to come from the countryside to pray to it, of all things. Not to Aslan, but to it. I cannot help feeling that this is wrong: the worship of something that is not Aslan. Though it represents the Lion's great love, I do not think it is a power in and of itself. I am sure that only Aslan, not His Knife, saved Anvard at the siege last month and healed little Brennan."

"I agree."

"I wish I knew what to do. I have entrusted the Knife to this kingdom, but I fear it is not a meet place for it, now that it has become something I know not what."

"Well, you can always take the Knife somewhere else," Aiolos suggested.

"That's true, but where? And what do I tell the Archenlanders? I am truly confounded."

"Trust in Aslan, Galen. These few weeks are not the limit of the destiny He has planned for you, and he will show you the way."

"I hope so, Aiolos. Sometimes I have stood by myself and wondered, questioned, and reasoned myself into frustration. I cannot seem to muster the faith I need to give what troubles me into Aslan's paws and I cannot figure it out on my own," the troubled knight continued.

"In my younger years, I faced the same problem," Aiolos replied quietly.

"Really?"

"Indeed, my friend. I questioned everything, and could not seem to cling to anything nor muster faith within me. Narnia was enslaved, and I could not understand why Aslan would let such a thing happen. What kind of god would allow anyone to suffer? How could I have faith in a god I had never seen? These questions and many more plagued me without rest."

"What answers did you find?"

"Well," the Horse answered, "One day something inside of me broke, and in frustration I told Aslan that He would have to show me the answers."

"And…"

"'Twas the best prayer I ever prayed, my friend. A few days later, at the Christmas festival, I was listening to the centaur story teller reciting the tale of the White Witch's defeat and the beginning of the Golden Age. As the centaur came to the part involving the laws of the Deep Magic and how Aslan gave His own life to save King Edmund, my mind was flooded with realizations that seemed to come from somewhere beyond myself. Aslan may not be a tame Lion, but He abides by the rules of the world He created. Aslan did not bypass the laws of the Deep Magic, but worked within them to accomplish good. He gave His own life, without reservation, to save the life of a proven traitor, even though He did not have to do so. Aslan neither caused nor designed any of the sufferings in the world. On the contrary, He would, and did, die to stop them."

"Please, continue," Galen entreated, thoroughly enthralled, when Aiolos paused.

"We have been given the gift of free will, and that free will to choose between good and evil is what allows the world's ills. To deny us that freedom would be to deny us the very essence of self. What good would the peace of a paradise do us then? It was then that I also realized that faith is a thing that I did not have to muster within my heart. I need only choose to accept Aslan's amazing love, and He would give me the faith I so needed and desired. That Christmas night marks the day my life truly began, and I cannot begin to express the peace Aslan has given me as a result," Aiolos continued as Galen continued walking in thoughtful silence. "You need only ask, Galen. Aslan will give you the faith to give your troubles to Him, and then He will care for every one of them."

"I think I understand, Aiolos. Thank you for telling me this," Galen said sincerely. "There are times that I cannot make sense of anything. There are also times, when I am very quiet, that I can feel Him speaking to me. A whisper on the wind, or a murmur that stirs my heart."

"That is exactly what I have experienced as well, my friend. Listen to that soft whisper, young one, for Aslan will prove the best friend you will ever have."

* * *

A cold wind rushed through the twilight air, but a warm fire crackled on the hearth of Galen's room. Masses of rain-heavy clouds gathered over the mountains, threatening to obscure the orange hues of sunset. Galen stood by the window of his room, pondering yet again. Aiolos' words echoed in his head. Could it really be so easy: to merely ask for the faith necessary to trust?

"Aslan," Galen found himself speaking, "I cannot find anything: neither faith nor direction nor anything else." The young knight felt himself kneeling on the cold stone floor. "Please, give me the faith to give my troubles unto Thee. Give me peace to sustain my spirit, guidance to show the way in which I should go, and the strength and courage to serve Thee to my dying breath."

A moment passed, and Galen drew a deep breath as he stood. As the air filled his lungs, warmth filled his heart and he felt inexplicably at peace. He could feel the Lion with him, and it made him feel extremely, contentedly happy.

* * *

Later that evening, the Archen court held a farewell banquet for Prince Karim, complete with a gloriously funny performance of the court jester troupe. Galen even found that he rather enjoyed it (especially given the occasion). Prince Karim said his goodbyes to the court, as he declared that the wagons were being prepared and he would be leaving before dawn to make good time back to Tashbaan. While everyone watched the final performance of the talented acrobats, no one saw as Juliana surreptitiously slipped a drop of liquid into Galen's glass. The acrobats finished their performance, final farewells were exchanged, and everyone promptly retired.

Galen found himself exceedingly tired, and tumbled into bed just as sleep overtook him.

Lyra, however, found herself unwilling to retire immediately and decided to walk along the battlements for a little while. The wind blew fitfully, and the storm clouds threatened to let loose their torrents, so Lyra ducked back inside the castle and returned to her room. Upon entering her room, she was puzzled to find a folded piece of paper lying on the floor in front of the door. She sat down on the settee, opened it, and began to read.

_"My Lady,_

_I have something I dearly wish to discuss with you in private. Would you, of your courtesy, meet me below the throne room as soon as possible? It is quite important, but I do not wish to disturb the sleep of anyone in the castle._

_~Sir Galen"_

Puzzled, but curious, Lyra tucked the note into her pocket, left the room, and proceeded to the throne room. She still wore her dress from the banquet, but had her sword at her side, as usual, and her hand rested, out of habit, on the hilt. At the very back of the throne room and to the left was a little stairwell that led down to the rooms and tunnels beneath the castle. That particular stairwell was not well used, as it led down to tunnels beneath the castle, near the barrels of new wine, and no one had much of a reason to go down there. As a result, it was the ideal place to carry on a conversation one wished to remain private, or (Lyra recalled last year's confrontation with a certain green-eyed lady with amusement) conduct business where you did not want anyone to interfere or be heard. Coming to the base of the stairway, she found two torches already lit and placed in the sconces on the wall to the left. She turned down the corridor and into the wine room at the end, the torch light along the way flickering eerily. Lyra began to feel a little unsettled, and when she entered the wine room her feelings were confirmed. Instead of Galen, Lady Juliana waited beside the door.

"Lady Juliana, what is the meaning of this," Lyra asked in steel-girded tones.

"Princess Lyra," she answered, turning and closing the door, "I wished to speak with you about something of mutual concern, and did not think you would come if I asked it of you. I do need your help."

"So it was your hand that wrote this," Lyra tossed the note to the floor. "I thought I recognized the manner of writing. Very well, what do you want?"

Juliana smiled a very snaky smile, stepped forward, and whispered, "Something I have wanted for a very long time."

At that moment, two swarthy, turbaned men with bare scimitars in their hands entered.

"Traitoress!" Lyra exclaimed, drawing her blade with a swift ring of steel. "I knew you to be power-hungry and devious, but I thought you at least would have some loyalty to your own people. How foolish of me to think you incapable of such duplicity and evil."

Juliana merely smiled and withdrew to a corner behind the Calormenes, who proceeded to advance menacingly towards Lyra. Not one to back down from a fight, Lyra swung her sword towards the nearest one, who parried, and then slashed towards the other. A fierce battle ensued, and soon one of the Calormenes fell lifeless to the ground. The other, enraged at his companion's death, redoubled his attack as several more Calormenes ran into the room. Lyra fought them valiantly, but one swordsman, no matter how skilled or how brave, cannot stand in an indefensible position against seven opponents at once. She injured several of her attackers, but in the end one of them landed a blow to her head with the pommel of his scimitar. The Archen princess fell to the ground, dazed, and promptly found herself held fast by several pairs of strong arms.

"Let me go, you big clumsy brutes!" She railed, struggling with all her might. "Archenland will not stand for this!"

Prince Karim entered the room at last, a triumphant smile on his face.

"Oh, but they will, my princess," he laughed. "They will not know where you have gone, and by the time they figure it out it will be too late. You should not have humiliated me by rejecting my suit."

"It was mine to reject, and I will have no part of your barbaric Calormene ways," Lyra retorted, eyes aflame with unbridled fury as she managed, despite her captors, to knock the prince over with a well-aimed kick that doubled him over.

Karim picked himself up, his dark eyes darkened even more. He raised a hand and dealt her a stinging blow across the face.

"Do not think yourself immune from my wrath, o delight of my eyes," he growled. "You will learn."

"You strike as a coward, prince, and you will pay dearly for this. And I will have your head, traitoress, if it is the last thing I do," she growled, unbowed by Karim's strike.

"I think not, my dear princess," Juliana replied, stepping towards Lyra. "I have waited for the day when you no longer meddle in my affairs for a very long time, and I intend to relish every moment of it. The last time we met in this room, I found your dagger at my throat. How fitting, then, that it is here where I laugh last. Goodbye, your highness," she said mockingly. "And congratulations on your engagement." Juliana stepped towards the first door, daintily stepping over the slain Calormene, then turned back towards the prince. "I trust my payment is in my rooms."

"It is, o most clever of ladies."

"Your days are numbered, Juliana. Remember that, and let my words haunt you until the day my sword strikes your heart," Lyra spat the words venomously, still struggling with her captors. Juliana merely smiled and closed the door on her way out.

Despite Lyra's struggling, the Calormenes managed to bind her tightly with sturdy ropes and tie a gag on securely. Even so, she continued to make as much noise as she could as they carried her down the other corridor, and the Calormenes finally resorted to dealing her a hard blow that knocked her unconscious. Then, they stole silently up another staircase, which lead into the Stone Knife Gallery, and made their way out to the waiting wagons. As Prince Karim passed the Stone Knife he paused, remembering how everyone in Archenland, and especially that bothersome Narnian, seemed to revere it. After a moment, he reached up and closed the lid of its case, then tucked the box with the Knife inside his satchel.

_"Spoils of war are such fun to enjoy"_, he thought as he joined his caravan outside. Karim's men secured Lyra in a carriage towards the front and Karim took to his own carriage, then the short caravan left the courtyard and turned towards the south as the rain finally began coming down in silver, drenching sheets.

In his warm, lit carriage the prince smiled.

* * *

AN: I would love to know what you think! I hope to have the next chapters posted in an equally timely manner. *fingers crossed*


	19. Chapter 18: Traitor Discovered

Author's Note: A day late, but better late than never! I'm most glad to be home after a most hectic excursion in Los Angeles. The Reagan Library is wonderful, though, and well worth the train fiasco that ensued in the getting there.

Anyway, thank you to my wonderful reviewers and their proofreading help. I always appreciate it, and I have made some revisions to this chapter accordingly. Special thanks to OldFashionedGirl, who helped a lot with Niusha's character.

I hope you enjoy the next chapter, dedicated to all my reviewers who wanted to see Juliana tossed to the wolves. Happy reading!

_Disclaimer: Narnia isn't mine. See previous chapters._

* * *

Chapter the Eighteenth: Traitor Discovered

Galen awoke later than usual the next morning, feeling slightly groggy despite sleeping deeply the night before. The groggy feeling did not last long, however, after Galen looked out the window. The sun was clear and bright, and the land smelled the refreshingly wet, clean, grassy way it does after a good rain. After donning his soft blue cambric shirt, leather jerkin, trousers, boots, and sword-belt, the Narnian ventured out into the castle in search of breakfast. He hurried through the kitchen, and snagged a bit of biscuit and some sausage as he dodged around the bustling cooks. Galen ducked out the other kitchen doorway and nearly ran into Ayden in the process.

"Oh, good! There you are, Galen. Have you seen Lyra? She did not come for practice this morning."

"No, I've not seen her. What a strange morning this is indeed! I only just got up. Perhaps Lyra slept in as well?"

"Nay, I've already checked her rooms, and they are deserted. It may be nothing, but I'm beginning to worry. She usually never misses our morning duels," Ayden mused concernedly.

"Let us go look then," Galen replied.

"Aye," Ayden nodded.

The pair hurried through castle, narrowly avoiding crashing into several courtiers. The search of the infirmary, throne room, great hall, even the dungeons (although Ayden said he hardly thought she would go down there) proved fruitless.

"I do declare I am at my wit's end," said Ayden, puzzled. "Where could she have gone?"

"Perhaps the glen?"

"Of course, she must be there!"

Galen hurried up the stairs and out into the castle courtyard, Ayden at his heels. They set a moderate pace through the woods and quickly came up upon a familiar little stream. Galen hopped across and clambered up the rocks.

"Lyra!" Ayden called, "Aren't you here, sister?"

Only the roar of the waterfall answered him, and it became apparent that they were alone. The two boys returned the castle discouraged. Upon entering it, they found a great uproar in the courtyard. Soldiers blocked the way out of the courtyard, and the heavy keep doors were shut. The noise was coming from a good number of the local villagers, come into Anvard to see the Stone Knife, who were kept from leaving the courtyard.

"What is going on here?" Ayden demanded of the soldier in front of them.

"The Stone Knife is missing, my lord."

"What?" Ayden exclaimed incredulously, glancing at Galen, then back at the soldier. At the soldier's words, Galen's heart skipped a beat, and he gripped the hilt of his sword. Ayden paused a moment, looked down, then straightened with determination.

"Seal the castle!" He barked. "Search every one of these people. Report to me when you are finished."

"Aye, my lord," the soldier snapped to attention briefly, then ran to carry out Ayden's orders. By the time the Narnian and Archenlander reached the castle keep, they could hear the sound of the heavy portcullis clanging closed. The two entered the castle and pushed through a crowd of nobles to reach the Stone Knife Gallery. King Lorn and Queen Layla, along with General Astrophel and several lords, stood inside.

"Father, what happened? How was the Stone Knife taken?" Ayden asked as they reached them.

"Ayden, Sir Galen, - good. I was about to send for you. No one seems to know how it was taken, only that the Knife was discovered missing this morning by some of the villagers who had come to see it. I want you to organize a search of the entire castle. Search every single chamber, every single person. Your sister can help as well."

"That is just it, your majesty," Galen interjected. The king looked at him quizzically. "We cannot find her either," he explained.

"Surely she has just gone on a walk to escape the castle, as she is wont to do. Have you checked the glen?" Layla suggested.

"We have, mother. She missed practice this morning and I did not see her at breakfast."

The room went silent as the occupants looked at each other, wondering what evil was afoot.

"Then the search is doubly important. Make haste," King Lorn instructed. Ayden nodded, turned on his heel, and left with a determined stride. Galen lingered a half a moment more, eyes resting on the empty pedestal where the Stone Knife had rested the day before. Then he turned and followed Ayden.

_"I should never have left it there_," thought the Narnian to himself, shaking his head and looking up to the ceiling, hand never leaving the hilt of his sword.

The pair continued walking, descended a level to the chamber reserved for knights' living quarters.

"Knights of Archenland, attend," Ayden ordered once they reached it. At once, a great many knights gathered around him.

"The Stone Knife and the Princess Lyra are missing. We are to turn this castle upside down until they are found. Gather ten soldiers, each of you, and sweep the section of the castle you are assigned. Report to the throne room as soon as you are finished."

Ayden, Galen, and two of the more senior knights divided a map of the castle into small sections to be searched and assigned one to each knight, ordering them to leave no room unsearched.

All of the knights along with Ayden and Galen went about the business of searching the castle at once. Galen and his party of soldiers were assigned to search the stables and practice yard.

"Aiolos!" Galen called as he and two soldiers entered the stable. "Have you seen Princess Lyra?"

"Why, no, I haven't, my friend. Her horse is still here, though. What is the matter?"

"Lyra is missing, and the Stone Knife has been stolen!"

"By the Lion! Where, who-?"

"I don't know, my friend. Would you help us search?"

"Certainly!" the Horse answered determinedly, pushing open the stall door and following his fellow Narnian. The two finished searching the stables, and rejoined the soldiers who were looking through the grassy practice yard. Galen ducked into the armory, searching behind every sword and bow. However, everything was in its proper place, and he looked around the armory disappointedly. He exited the armory back out to the practice yards.

"Have you found anything at all?"

"No, Sir Galen, we've not," the nearest soldier answered with a shrug. Aiolos whinnied and shook his mane, indicating his own negative results.

"We might as well return to the throne room, then," said Galen.

He and the soldiers returned to the throne room, where Ayden and the knights who had already finished their searching were discussing the matters at hand.

"Nothing in the second quarter?"

"Not a thing out of place, my lord," a knight was answering him.

"Anything, Sir Galen?" Ayden looked up and asked as he entered. Galen shook his head in response.

"The princess's horse is still in the stable. Other than that, we have found nothing."

"Nor have we, although several parliament members are lodging complaints with the king at their chambers being searched."

"Hardly surprising, my lord," one knight smirked, eliciting a laugh from all present.

"What of the villagers?" Galen inquired.

"No one was concealing anything, so I let them go."

"Prince Ayden!" An urgent voice interrupted from behind Ayden. All turned to see a knight standing in the stairwell doorway behind the thrones.

"Have you found something?"

The knight nodded grimly.

"You had better come see for yourself, my lord."

* * *

Lyra awoke to the sound of methodical wooden creaking. She blinked several times as her surroundings came into focus, her head throbbing with every heartbeat. She became aware of a rocking motion, and finally realized where she was: lying on one seat of a Calormene traveling carriage. The seats were padded with long cushions, although the cloth was a plain woven indigo. Lyra sat up, and her head began to throb more. She tried to raise a hand to her head, but found her wrists tightly bound with rope.

"Good morning, your highness," a small, almost shy voice startled the Archenlander. Lyra looked up to see a girl only a little younger than herself sitting across from her. She wore soft ivory colored pantaloons, a light, long coral colored tunic with long sleeves, and a yellow sash was tied around her waist. The girl's skin was a dark olive, her eyes and hair jet black.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Lyra demanded.

"I am Niusha, your highness. Prince Karim assigned me to attend you."

"You mean to watch me and make sure I do not escape?" Lyra asked pointedly.

"Yes, your highness," the girl answered, avoiding Lyra's gaze.

"I see. And where, pray tell, are we heading?"

"Prince Karim's manor, your highness, near the Three Lakes."

"Ha! So he was not called back to Tashbaan after all. 'Tis no great surprise. Do you know, then, what plans the cowardly prince has in store for me, Niusha?" Lyra spoke scornfully, looking casually out the window as though bored, although she was in reality making a tactical assessment of the surrounding area, which was covered in trees at present.

"From what I have heard from the other servants, he means to make you his wife, your highness."

"He said as much last night, although I will not allow that to happen."

"But surely it cannot be too terrible a thing? You would be a lady of high standing in the very household of the Tisroc (may he live forever)."

"I was perfectly happy in Archenland, and to marry this weasel of an excuse for a prince is not what I want."

"In Calormen it does not matter what women want. We must accept what we are given, and be grateful for it."

Lyra looked at her in shock.

"How can you accept this?" She asked incredulously.

"Is it not natural for things to be this way? Men protect us, and we provide for their comfort. It has always been this way, your highness."

"No! It has not always been this way, and it is not how things are done in Archenland. A woman is every bit the equal of a man and I cannot understand how any woman could accept such conditions as you describe! Why do you not fight back?" Lyra shot back.

"Even if we wished to fight, how could we? We are not as strong, not allowed to learn the use of weapons, and neither the priests nor the courts recognize us as legal equals. This is how things are, and this is how they will remain forever."

"I thank the Lion that I was not born Calormene, then," she said quietly. "And I will not set foot there, I assure you," she finished, looking at the servant girl with fire in her eyes.

* * *

Galen, Ayden, and several more senior knights followed the knight down the staircase behind the thrones to the corridors beneath the castle. Galen had never been down in these tunnels, and looked around with interest.

"Over here, my lord," the knight pointed towards the wine storage room. Ayden stepped towards the room, Galen at his heels. Upon entering the room, a grisly sight awaited them. Blood pooled on the floor, mixing with wine trickling from a broken barrel. A Calormene soldier, who the two boys recognized as part of the prince's personal guard, lay dead on the floor. A straight Archen sword, stained with crimson, lay in the corner.

"What happened here?" Galen asked aloud, bewildered. Ayden, face ashen, picked up the sword.

"This is Lyra's. And that Calormene her handiwork. I would recognize her style anywhere." The Archen prince leaned against the wall, finding his knees weak for a moment. "I should have been more careful to protect her!" He whispered, eyes still lingering on his sister's blade. "How could she have let herself fall prey to such a trap?"

"I do not understand either," Galen puzzled, but a slip of paper that had gotten stuck to the back of the door caught Galen's eye.

"Ayden, look at this!" Galen reached down and picked it up. His eyes widened as he read it. "Why, I did not write this! I have never been down here before, and did not even know these tunnels existed."

"She was betrayed!" Ayden exclaimed, taking the letter. "And by one of the court of Anvard, I'll wager, for the handwriting looks oddly familiar, but I cannot seem to place where I last saw it."

"I surely hope you remember," replied Galen, grasping his sword hilt out of habit.

"Keep this area secure," Ayden ordered the knights as they turned to the other door in the room. Galen and Ayden followed the other corridor for a little space.

"Look-there is more blood," Galen pointed to the splattered crimson droplets on the side of the corridor. "At least one of them was wounded."

Ayden looked back towards Galen, his eyes communicating unspoken worry for his sister. He hurried down the corridor at a faster pace. Soon, the corridor lead to stairwell and the two followed it.

"Is there nothing Calormenes will not do?" Galen exclaimed as they came to the top of the stairs, which opened into the now-empty Stone Knife Gallery.

"No. There is nothing to which they will not resort if they want something," Ayden affirmed grimly, almost bitterly. The two hurried back to the throne room, where the king and queen were waiting.

"Anything?" an anxious Queen Layla inquired.

"We found a dead Calormene, mother, and Lyra's sword beside him, along with the letter that betrayed her to them."

"Then the spurned prince has taken her?"

"Aye, mother, we fear so."

"And the Stone Knife?"

"We can only conclude it was he as well."

"Organize a pursuit party immediately, then! Well armed and well supplied."

"And should we need to cross Calormene borders?"

"The crown of Archenland cannot officially recognize such a mission, as you know, Ayden," King Lorn answered. "But we have been sorely provoked, and I have no patience for diplomacy. Lion be with you, my son."

Ayden smiled a little and nodded, turning to gather the party. Galen made his way towards his room to prepare for the journey to rescue Lyra as well as recover the Stone Knife.

"Hello, Sir Galen," a voice spoke from behind him in the corridor, startling him from his concerned musings.

"Hello, Lady Juliana," Galen replied with a sigh, impatiently turning around and recognizing the speaker.

"The castle seems quite abuzz this day, I see," she remarked casually.

"Indeed," Galen replied wryly.

"I say, why don't we go for a ride in the countryside, just you and me! It would be so lovely to get away from this bustling castle for a while."

"You act as though there is nothing at all the matter, my lady, when Princess Lyra has been abducted and the Stone Knife stolen. I daresay you act almost pleased!"

"Why, whatever do you mean?"

"You behave as though Princess Lyra is kidnapped every other day and there is nothing at all amiss in such an attack. Why are you so nonchalant?" Galen inquired pointedly, suspicion coloring his voice.

"I am sure I do not know what you are talking about, good sir," Juliana flipped her hair behind her.

Galen did not reply for a moment, as his gaze was drawn to the stunning emerald, and the intricate Calormene insignia engraved on it, that hung around the Archen lady's neck.

"Oh, do you like my necklace?" She asked, noticing where his attention had gone. The Narnian did not reply, but a spark of realization flickered in his blue eyes. More swiftly than Juliana could have anticipated, the green-eyed lady found herself pinned to the wall, Galen's hand around her throat.

"You are the traitor!" he growled. "What have you done with Lyra and the Stone Knife?"

Juliana shrieked, but her cry was cut short by the Narnian knight's grasp.

"I don't know what you are talking about!" She gasped. "How dare you lay hands on me, a lady of the court, in so unchivalrous a fashion!"

"I have grown tired of your scheming attentions, my lady, and I will have them no more, blast chivalry. You wrote the letter, did you not? You lead Lyra into the trap!"

Juliana did not answer.

"No matter. You will answer to the king."

Galen released his hold on the treacherous girl, then seized her arm firmly, drew his dagger from his boot, and settled the sharp edge along Juliana's throat. She coughed as Galen released her, then gasped at the sight of the razor sharp Narnian blade.

"You, a knight, cannot do this to a lady!"

"You little deserve the title 'lady,'" he scoffed. "Chivalry will not save you if you choose to try to escape, I promise you."

Juliana, now shaking, nodded speechlessly, and Galen began to practically drag her away towards the throne room.

"Your majesties!"

"Sir Galen, what is the meaning of this?" King Lorn exclaimed upon seeing Galen and his captive.

Galen unceremoniously deposited Juliana on her knees in front of the thrones.

"She has betrayed Archenland, your majesty. Do you recognize the jewel around her neck? I last saw it around Prince Karim's. I little doubt it was she who lead the princess into the Calormenes' trap and by whose help the Stone Knife was taken."

"Lady Juliana, is this true?"

"How dare this simple knight make such accusations and threaten my noble person!" Juliana screeched. "I have done nothing wrong!"

"Oh really?" Ayden answered. "I now recognize whose hand wrote that letter- it is yours and no other, traitoress," Ayden declared.

"Search her rooms!" The king ordered, and a knight and several soldiers hurried to follow his orders.

A little while passed, Galen pacing impatiently behind Juliana, his hand grasping his sword hilt. None too soon for Galen the soldiers returned, one of them holding a little chest and the other holding a letter.

"What have you found?"

"Your majesty, we found this chest of jewels, emblazoned with Prince Karim's standard, under her bed, and this letter in the waste basket."

"Let me see the letter," said the queen, and the soldier complied. She proceeded to read the crumpled letter, then exclaimed, "This is from Prince Karim requesting Lady Juliana's help in abducting Lyra, with the promise of payment afterwards! What could have possessed you to do such a thing, Juliana?" The queen asked incredulously.

"She was always meddling in my affairs! I have no allegiance to her, and I hope you never find her!" Juliana snarled.

"I see," the queen's face hardened, her husband's countenance equally darkened. "You will tell us what we need to know. Where has Prince Karim taken Lyra?" The queen demanded.

"I do not know," Juliana answered petulantly.

"Your majesties, perhaps we might take the lady on a little excursion to meet the new inhabitants of the Archen forest?" Galen suggested icily.

"The wolves?" Ayden grinned.

"The wolves." Galen confirmed. "I daresay they would find her an easy meal."

"You...you wouldn't...couldn't do that!" Juliana stammered, eyes wide with fear.

"As much as I we might like to do so," the queen interjected, "Guards, take the traitoress away. Lock her in the dungeon. Perhaps that will change her mind. Ayden, Sir Galen, make haste in your pursuit. Lion guard your way."

The two bowed, then left the throne room.

* * *

In less than an hour Ayden, Galen, Aiolos, and ten Archen knights streamed out the castle gates towards the south.

"Any tracks, Sir Ferian?" Ayden asked one of the knights, who was a skilled tracker as well.

"Nay, my lord, none of use. Last knight's rains have obscured any tracks that were left. Perhaps we will find some beneath the trees."

"Spread out, everyone! Yell if you find any sign of the Calormene party!" Ayden ordered.

The knights spread out, and Aiolos kept his sharp eyes on the path.

"Here!" Shouted one after a little while.

"You found the trail?"

"Aye. It leads to the southwest."

"And you are sure it is Calormene? Sir Ferian, what think you?

"No other sort of people would take so many wagons through the forest, my lord."

"Then let us make haste!"

The party moved as quickly as they could, but tracking is a tedious business and the forest darkened all too soon. Galen looked out through the trees, where he could see the sun's last golden beams disappearing behind the western mountains.

"We must make camp," Galen declared dejectedly, gaze lingering on the mountaintops, glowing as though aflame.

"I agree. We cannot follow the trail in darkness," said Ayden, equally disheartened.

Soon a campfire brought a little bit of light and warmth to the cold, dark forest around them. The knights gathered their cloaks around themselves and made the most of the lackluster food they had with them.

"I hope she's alright," Ayden said quietly, staring into the dancing flames.

Galen pulled his cloak tighter around himself. "Me too," he answered softly.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I'd love a review from you!


	20. Chapter 19: Freedom

Author's Note: I am sorry about the confusion I had with the last chapter. Many thanks to my reviewers, who have helped me work out the kinks in it. I will probably not be able to continue updating with such frequency in the future, what with school coming back in full force. Thank you for reading, as always!

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. I do not own Narnia. Enough said.

The names of the months always belong to Elecktrum, who has graciously allowed me the use of them.

* * *

Chapter the Nineteenth: Freedom

_8 Mayblossom 2076_

Lyra awoke long before Niusha, her gaze stealing towards the east and the faint hint of dawn at its horizon. The Calormene soldiers who had for so long ridden directly beside the carriage were sluggish with weariness, and in this moment Lyra saw an opportunity. In their arrogance, the Calormenes had underestimated her, assuming that her sword was the only weapon she carried. Now, she pulled the dagger from her boot and quietly sliced through her bonds. The carriage door was not locked, and as swift as an arrow Lyra opened the door and leapt from the doorframe to the horse of the half-asleep soldier beside it. She landed behind him, and before he could cry out, her knife relieved him of the ability to do so. Lyra pushed the soldier from his mount and seized the reins, turning the horse around and spurring it on towards home and freedom. The caravan was at present outside the forest and climbing the southern Archen foothills. On the other side of these hills lay the desert and Calormen, but at that moment Lyra did not care. Her only concern was disappearing into the forest before the Calormenes could give adequate chase.

"Oh, come on, horse! Can't you go any faster?" she urged her mount, looking back as the wind rushed through her hair. The Calormene soldiers noticed their fallen compatriot almost immediately and gave chase. For a little space it looked as though Lyra's horse would outstrip the others, but her mount tripped and crashed to the ground as it tried to jump a large ditch at the foot of the last hill.

Lyra picked herself up from the dirt at once, holding her knife at the ready as several Calormene soldiers came flying towards her. As the first was almost upon her, the Archenlander took hold of the horse's halter, swung up towards the rider and kicked him off. As he fell, he grabbed her boot and pulled her off the horse. She fell in the dirt next to the Calormene, but she was quicker with her knife than was he with his scimitar. She turned at once to use the moment to escape. The soldier's horse had already run off, so Lyra began to run into the forest. The trees grew thick, and the fleeing girl could hear the hoofbeats of her pursuers coming ever nearer as she endeavored to run through the boughs. However, she tripped over an inconvenient root and was sent tumbling into the dust, allowing the Calormene riders the moment's time they needed to catch up. Before Lyra could get up, a half dozen scimitars were brandished at her head, daring her to move and invite their retribution.

"Where is the knife?" One of them demanded. Lyra glowered at him from the ground.

"Where is the knife?" He growled a second time. This time the faintest smirk crossed her face as she drew the knife from behind her back. Before the Calormene could stop her, she sent the knife singing through the air.

"There!" She answered as the keen blade found its mark in the would-be interrogator's throat.

"By Tash, what kind of woman are you?" One of the others shouted in shock, raising his scimitar to strike the Archen princess.

"Stop!" A harsh, authoritative voice cut through the air before the soldier could take his revenge. Prince Karim and several more soldiers pushed through the trees towards them.

"If any one of you harm the princess in any way, your life is forfeit!" The prince barked.

"Your highness, she killed three of us! One was my brother! How can we be denied our proper revenge? What of justice?" One soldier demanded.

"Silence, dog! Yours is not to question but to obey. Those who she has killed were incompetent enough to let her escape. They deserved their fate. Do not make the same mistake," he cautioned ominously, turning his horse around towards the way they had come. The remaining soldiers seized Lyra (still brandishing scimitars), then followed their prince back towards the caravan. Lyra marched along angrily, quite a sight with her hair tangled, dress splattered with mud, and face scraped from running through the tree branches. As they approached the carriages and wagons again, the Archenlander could see a soldier dragging Niusha out of the carriage and throwing her to the ground at Prince Karim's feet. The poor girl did not dare to look up, but sat shivering in the dirt, head bowed.

"I...I...am sorry, your highness! I did not mean to let her escape! Please, have mercy, your highness!" Lyra could hear Niusha begging as she came closer.

"Silence!" Karim thundered. "You are incompetent! You neglected the duties I gave you, and as a result three men are dead! By Tash, you deserve nothing less than to be dragged in the dirt behind these carriages until you die!"

The girl was crying now, face buried in her hands. Karim paused a moment and took a frustrated breath.

"But, I will be lenient," he growled, motioning for a soldier to come forward. "Thirty lashes." Two more soldiers seized Niusha and tied her to the back of the carriage as another stepped forward, whip in hand.

"You call this mercy?" Lyra's exclamation cut through the air like a thunderclap. "She could have done nothing to stop me, and yet you call it lenient to subject her to the lash?" Horror and anger mingled on the Archenlander's face, and the people gathered around went silent in the same way a forest goes quiet before the onset of a storm.

"Why do you care, my dear Lyra?" Prince Karim sneered. "She is but a slave. And an incompetent one at that."

Lyra pushed away from the soldiers and towards the prince, raising her voice resolutely.

"I care because of justice, equity, and all that is good in this world - of which you evidently know nothing. If you must beat someone, Prince Karim, take me instead," Lyra met his gaze firmly, voice steely and eyes glowing with anger.

A murmur went through the group of Calormenes, and an expression of pure puzzlement entered Karim's dark eyes as he looked down at Lyra. However, his lips curved upwards a moment later in a cruel smile.

"For you, my love, I will spare her," he agreed, stroking Lyra's face with one hand. "But," his voice hardened as she recoiled from his touch, and he pulled her chin up so that she was looking into his eyes once again as he said menacingly, "I promise you, if you try to escape again, the servant will suffer a slow and excruciatingly painful death which I will not stop though Zardeenah herself begged it of me."

Lyra said nothing, but met his gaze with defiance in her eyes. Karim turned away from her and ordered the soldiers to remount.

"Put the princess back in the carriage! We will not rest until we have crossed the desert and put this barbarian country behind us!" He ordered.

"Your highness, should we not give the fallen soldiers proper burial?" One young soldier asked.

"Their inability to perform their duties has yielded its reward. Let them lie where they are," Karim dismissed the young man, who turned hesitantly to look at his fallen comrades for a moment before turning his horse southward again, shaking his head as he went.

Back inside the carriage, Lyra plopped down on the seat with a sigh, crossing her arms and looking out the window towards the hills of Archenland with longing.

"Thank you, your highness," Niusha spoke shyly.

"You're welcome, Niusha," Lyra looked towards her and smiled a little.

"Your highness, if I may ask….why did you help me?"

"Because what they would have done was wrong and without honor. Yours was not the fault and I could not stand by and let you - or anyone else for that matter - suffer the lash for anything, much less something on my account."

"But any tarkheena would not hesitate to let a servant take the blame for anything."

"I am no tarkheena, and that is something of which I am very glad," Lyra answered wryly, looking out the window once more. "I little think I could stand to be in the company of people such as that," she finished quietly.

Niusha looked away, both confused and curious at once. After a few quiet moments passed, Niusha retrieved a handkerchief and a bottle full of water from the space beneath her seat cushion.

"Here," she said, "Let me at least help you clean up."

"Thanks," Lyra smiled a little.

Niusha wet the handkerchief with water and gave it to Lyra, who proceeded to clean the streaks of mud and blood that the escape had left on her face.

"I don't suppose you have a hairbrush?" Lyra asked after she was finished.

"Yes," Niusha answered, opening the seat cushion again to retrieve the requested item. "Here."

Lyra thanked her and began to tackle the tangles in her long hair. After a few minutes of frustration, Niusha intervened.

"Here, let me help," the Calormene girl offered, reaching for the brush.

"No, it's alright," Lyra answered.

"Please, your highness. This is what I do for my living," Niusha insisted, and Lyra grudgingly relinquished the brush. Niusha began to work at the tangles, and in a little while the Archenlander's hair was neatly brushed, with two little braids weaving around the rest to keep it nicely out of the way.

"How did you learn to fight?" Niusha asked as she finished working on Lyra's hair.

"My parents have taught me and my brother how to wield a blade since we were little."

"And your father and brother allowed this?"

"Of course! Some of my happiest family memories were made with a sword in my hand and my father and brother beside me."

"Your mother was not frightened that you would be hurt?" Niusha asked, brow furrowed in puzzlement.

"Not at all! Mother is one of Archenland's best swordswomen!" Lyra laughed in response. "Most of the time she was teaching me, and she is every bit a match for Father!"

Niusha did not answer for a moment, and her voice was quiet and pensive when she finally answered.

"The northern lands must be very strange, indeed. No woman in Calormen would dare pick up a sword, much less wield it against her husband."

"And what do you think about that, Niusha?"

"I...I don't know, your highness," the girl looked away. "I cannot imagine a place like that - where I could be so….so…."

"So free?"

"Yes!" Niusha looked up, but her smile quickly faded as her eyes filled with fear. "No! I can't have a life like that. We mustn't speak of this anymore!" The Calormene girl glanced with apprehension towards the carriage windows and the sand beyond them.

"Niusha, what's wrong?" The Archenlander asked, confused. "You can be free!"

"No. You cannot talk of this anymore. Speaking like this carries consequences," she answered, wrapping her arms around herself and refusing to make eye contact with Lyra.

For her part, Lyra was quite confused but she said nothing in reply. A dark knot of foreboding settled in her chest as she continued the rest of the afternoon's ride in silence, looking out on the bright sand.

* * *

_8 Mayblossom 2076_

Galen awoke to birds chirping as the sky paled with the dawn. His cloak was damp with the dew, and himself cold and stiff from the night spent sleeping on the ground, but Galen found himself in oddly good spirits none the less. After spending so many weeks in the Archen court, spending time in the forest felt invigorating and reminded the Narnian of home.

"Lion's mane, but I'm stiff!" One of the knights protested as he stood up and poked at the remnants of the fire.

"What, Ewan, you're not going soft on us now are you?" Sir Ferian teased his friend.

"Come on, then! We've not got time for anything, much less you two's carrying on," Ayden interjected, only a trifle of good humor softening the grumpiness in his voice. "Douse the fire, and mount up. We can follow the trail now and we must make up for lost time."

"Aye, my lord," Sir Ewan answered, and the nine other knights began to ready the horses.

"Good morn, Aiolos," Galen greeted his friend as he began to put on the Horse's saddle.

"Good morn, my friend," Aiolos answered. "Sleep well?"

"Aye, I did, strangely enough. I think I prefer the forest to that castle."

"Me too, young one," Aiolos whinnied.

Before the sun fully rose over the forest, the Archenlanders and Narnians set off in pursuit again. Sir Ferian set the pace as he followed the Calormenes' trail through the green Archen forest, and although Ayden would have much rather careened down the path in a mad dash, he deferred (with much effort) to the skilled tracker.

About mid-day the sun disappeared behind thick, gray clouds and the wind turned colder. Galen shivered beneath his cloak, and looked around the woods. They had ridden the hours away in silence, and in that silence Galen began to focus more and more on his failure to protect the Stone Knife. Images of his father and grandfather swirled through his mind, the words of his promise echoing with them as though carried on the chill wind. As the Narnian watched the forest grow dim with dusk once again, he thought that he had never felt so alone.

The trees began to thin out, and the group made camp once more. The Archenlanders promptly fell asleep, but Galen found he could not. Instead, the Narnian stared into the dancing flames as the fire died down, finding himself wishing for home.

"Something troubles you, my friend," the Horse's soft voice broke the silence. Aiolos had moved closer the the fire, and now lay down beside Galen.

"I've failed. Failed everyone-father, grandfather, and every knight of the Lion's Redemption before me, as well as my new Archen friends. The Stone Knife is gone. I don't know if I'll ever see it - or Lyra - again."

"Such is life, young one. It is full of the unknown. We can only look forward, and take the adventure that Aslan will give us," the Horse answered.

"I don't think I like the adventure Aslan is giving me," Galen answered, fiddling with a stick of firewood, and Aiolos chuckled in response.

"I suppose that is part of life too."

* * *

Finally the carriage came to a stop, and the Calormene party began to dismount. Niusha and Lyra climbed out of the carriage to see the sun setting above the sand in a brilliant ball of glowing golden fire. Directly in front of them was a small grove of palm trees which surrounded a little spring-fed pond. The caravan stopped at this oasis to water the horses, and while they did so, everyone else took the opportunity to stretch their legs and take a meal. Lyra sat on a rock beside the water and stared at the reflected sunset. She looked back north with a sigh, then turned her attention to the food Niusha handed her.

"I hope the journey is agreeing with you, my sweet," Prince Karim's voice resounded. The Archenlander turned towards the sound, and saw her captor sitting beside her.

"I cannot see that you would care whether the journey agrees with me or not," she answered crossly, turning back towards the pond. Karim only laughed and stroked her hair.

"Always the fiery one, my Lyra. But I do enjoy a challenge," he smiled at her, and she recoiled from him. Karim stood, but before he left, he turned back towards her and remarked, "It is good to be back on good Calormene sand again. I think you will come to like it, o-the-delight-of-my-eyes."

"Oh, that man is positively revolting!" Lyra fumed under her breath.

"Did you say something, your highness?" Niusha asked.

"Oh, well...I just was wondering how much longer we will be traveling."

"It is not too far, your highness. We should arrive by tomorrow afternoon."

"Is it anywhere near Tashbaan?"

"Oh, no. The Manor of the Three Lakes is in the mountains to the west of Tashbaan. It is one of the most beautiful and least populated areas of Calormen.

"Thank you. Niusha-" Lyra began, then paused mid-sentence.

"Yes?"

"Never mind. I'll be there in a moment." The Archenlander answered, and Niusha turned to ready for the last of the journey. When she was gone, Lyra looked around, then surreptitiously slipped a ring off of her finger and placed it beside the rock in the heel of her footprint. She made sure the part of the ring with her insignia on it pointed towards the southwest, and then returned to the carriage.

The caravan set out once again across the sand, and soon the carriages' lanterns were lit to ward against the chill desert darkness. The stars sparkled above them, but Lyra did not see them. Inside the carriage, she tried to sleep, but found herself unable to do so. It was after midnight when she finally sat up on the seat cushion and looked out the window. At the moment, there was no one particularly nearby, so the Archenlander turned and shook her companion awake.

"Your highness? What is the matter?" The sleepy girl asked.

"Niusha, I want to know what you meant earlier," Lyra answered, sitting next to the Calormene.

"Earlier?"

"Yes - you were afraid to speak of having freedom. You said it carried consequences. What did you mean?"

"It is not important," Niusha answered uncomfortably, glancing towards the windows.

"There isn't anyone nearby right now. They're all asleep."

Niusha thought a moment, glancing towards the windows.

"You must not tell anyone," she answered.

"You have my word," Lyra assured her. Niusha looked down for a moment, then sighed.

"I was not always a servant girl. My family is not of the nobility, but is well-off and owns a large vineyard and winery in the Valley of the Three Lakes. When I was thirteen, my father arranged for me to marry a low-ranking tarkaan. This made all my family very proud, since it would link us to those of nobility and ensure our lands would not be taken away. But I did not want to marry the tarkaan. He was a cruel and petty man and I wanted nothing to do with him."

"What happened?"

"When the tarkaan came to my father's house to claim me for his bride, I stood up and declared to all that were present - the tarkaan, my father, my entire family - that I was a free woman, the property of no one, and that I would never marry someone I did not love."

"Good for you!" Lyra smiled. Niusha shook her head.

"Nay. I was very foolish. The tarkaan then declared that he was not obligated to marry an upstart, common girl, even if it did afford him a quarter of the province's best vineyards. He left, and my father was so angry that he could not even look at me. The rest of the family sided with him. I could have brought them much by my marriage, and they felt I had betrayed them. So, the next day father summoned me. He asked me if I still would not marry the tarkaan. I told him again that I was no one's property and would not marry the tarkaan. A horrible look came into Father's eyes, and he told me that it was very easy for me to become property. He and my brothers dragged me that day to the slave markets in the town and sold me to a slave trader. Father's last words to me were this: 'You are no daughter of mine, no sister of theirs, and every bit the chattel you claimed not to be.' And he left me there. Eventually I was sold into Prince Karim's house, where I have worked the four years since."

"I can hardly fathom that a father would do such a thing to his own daughter!" Lyra was stunned.

"Father did not hesitate. No Calormene would. Such is the price of dreaming of freedom, your highness, in this land."

Lyra did not answer for a moment, still processing with shock all the girl had said. A moment later, she spoke with steely resolve.

"It is truly horrible what you have had to go through, Niusha. No one should have to endure that. I will tell you this, though: I will not ever marry Karim, and I know my brother and Archenland's knights will be coming for me. When they do, help us, and come with us. You won't have to dream of freedom again - it will be there in your hands. You only need take it."

"I...I don't know, your highness."

"Think about it," Lyra replied. "In Archenland you would never have to bend knee to a man, or a woman for that matter, ever again. No one could tell you what to do, or who to marry, and you could walk with your head held high, even amongst men."

Niusha closed her eyes and sighed, then looked back towards the Archenlander. "Words cannot express how much I have longed for such a life. If there is a chance, your highness, and your friends truly come, then I will help."

Lyra smiled confidently. "They will come. And we will see the green hills of Archenland and freedom again, Niusha.

* * *

Thank you for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts on it!


	21. Chapter 20: Moonbeam Vigils

Author's Note: A long while, I know, dear readers. I have the next chapter well on the way, though, and it is spring break, so I hope to have another chapter up by next week (hopefully).

Also, a very happy birthday to Fierce Queen!

_Disclaimer: You know the drill. Narnia does not belong to me, no copyright infringement is ever intended. Thank you, and goodnight._

Enjoy! I'd love to know what you think!

* * *

Chapter the Twentieth: Moonbeam Vigils

_9 Mayblossom 2076, Southern Archenland_

"Knights to arms!" Sir Ferian's voice pierced the morning air.

Galen woke with a start and jumped to his feet from where he had been resting against Aiolos, drawing his sword along with Ayden and the other knights. They ran towards the knight's voice, bursting out of the woods to find Sir Ferian, a torch in hand, standing over the body of a Calormene soldier. The pre-dawn air was still dark, with only the slightest hint of light at the eastern horizon to herald the approaching day.

"What happened?" Ayden asked as he shook the remnants of sleep away. Galen and the rest of the knights looked around quizzically, on their guard lest the Calormene's companions lingered nearby.

"I came across this as I was walking in the last watch. I am afraid I gave a false alarm. He has been dead many hours."

"Nay, I am glad you raised the alarm, Sir Ferian!" Ayden leaned closer to the dead Calormene, discovering the knife that slew him. "This is Lyra's boot-knife, I would know it anywhere! She must have escaped!"

"Let us hope so!" Sir Ewan answered.

"We might as well get the horses and begin to search," said Ayden, removing the knife from the Calormene and cleaning it before stowing it in his own boot.

"Agreed. I will continue to examine the tracks," Ferian replied.

Galen returned with the other knights and helped ready the horses. As soon as there was sufficient daylight, the party began to search the woods. They returned to the camp empty-handed, but Sir Ferian awaited them with the results of his tracking.

"What news, Sir Ferian?" Ayden asked.

"I found two more slain Calormenes. From the tracks, it looks like the princess escaped and took the horse of the first Calormene, but was somehow dismounted and tried unsuccessfully to take the mount of another. That one is dead at the foot of the hill, there," Ferian pointed as he continued. "She ran afoot, but at least six Calormenes pursued and caught her. She killed one, but it is safe to conclude they still have her.

"Blast!" Ayden exclaimed, his fist clenched around his sword hilt.

"How much of a lead do they have?" Galen asked.

"From the looks of these bodies, I would estimate that they have a little less than a day's lead."

"A day?" groaned Ayden. "Then we have to cut into it!"

"At least we know Lyra is her same old self," Galen chuckled.

"Aye," agreed Ewan, and the rest of the knights smiled as they cued their mounts to match Sir Ferian's pace.

Later in the morning, Sir Ferian slowed as the Archen hills began to merge into a plain. Before the knights lay the glaringly bright golden expanse of desert.

"What now, Sir Ferian?"

"The tracks disappear, my lord. Sand does not retain a reliable trail."

"In your opinion, where will the prince be heading?" Ayden questioned.

"Well, my lord, we have been traveling steadily southwest since we left Anvard. This puts us leagues away from Tashbaan and the Great Oasis. It is unlikely he is heading there."

"Where else would a prince of Calormen go?" Sir Torban puzzled.

"Did not the prince hold other titles? Landed titles?" Galen asked.

"Aye!" Sir Ferian answered. "I had not thought of it before, but Prince Karim referred to himself as 'Tarkaan of the Three Lakes'. Would that not entail a manor of some kind?"

"Sounds likely," Ewan observed. "Where would these three lakes be?"

"That I do not know," Ferian answered grimly. "However, there is a smaller oasis slightly to the southwest. I daresay our best option is to travel into Calormen via that oasis, and find Prince Karim's whereabouts once in the country."

Ayden looked down for a moment, his head resting momentarily in his hand in weariness.

"My lord?" Torban looked at the Archen prince, puzzled at the delay.

"Yes, very good," Ayden looked up and nodded. "The desert will not be kind. Let us take care not to overexert the horses."

The Archen party looked a moment at the sand and at each other, then of one accord spurred their mounts towards the sandy expanse in a column of two abreast. The rest of the day they paced their way through the glaring sands, even as Lyra watched the sand melt away into the sunny valley vineyards of the Calormene wine country. By late afternoon, both pursuer and pursued reached their destinations.

* * *

The sun dipped behind the horizon in oppressive golden glory as the horses drank deeply from the pool of the oasis. Palm trees tossed before the breeze as Galen looked out towards the purpling eastern sky. Aravir shone brightly there, a silver jewel to light the way to Aslan's Country.

"They stopped here to rest!" Sir Ferian exclaimed, pointing to the swirls of footprints in the packed sand around the oasis.

"Good. We are on the right track," Ayden nodded, dismounting.

"What now?" One knight asked.

"Now we eat and rest. When the moon rises we will continue onwards," Ayden responded wearily, sinking down to the sand beside the water and refilling his water container. The knights attended to the horses and began to eat the dried meat stored in their bags.

Galen sat on a rock beside the pool, finding himself staring at the reflections in the rippled surface. Conflicting thoughts coursed through his mind like the ripples colliding on the water's surface. Finally, the Narnian closed his eyes and took a deep breath to clear his mind, remembering in whose Paws he was held.

"_Aslan," he thought, "I do not understand why such things happen, how I could have let both the Stone Knife and my friend fall into enemy hands, but I ask only that Thou wilt show me the way. Please protect Lyra, and give me the strength to win this battle, to take the adventure Thou wouldst give me and to behave for Thy glory."_

Galen opened his eyes, his confidence renewed, and found himself looking down to the sand at his feet. A silver gleam caught his eye, and he leaned down to brush away the stray sand. In the heel of a particularly well-defined footprint lay a silver ring.

"Ayden!"

"What is it, Galen?" the Archenlander answered.

"Come look at this: I've found a ring in the sand here."

Ayden walked over and looked.

"By the Lion! You're right," he took the ring from Galen's hand. "It's Lyra's! There can be no mistake now that we are on the right trail!" Ayden answered excitedly. "Was the crest facing a particular direction?"

"Why, yes, now that you mention it. It was pointed - " Galen paused to look at the sky and work out the direction, " - to the southwest, I believe."

"Wonderful! To the southwest we continue, then!"

"How can you be sure that this was the princess's handiwork? How can we know she left it intentionally as a direction?" Sir Ewan asked.

"I know," Ayden chuckled. "When we were younger, my sister and I would play hide and seek in the forests near Anvard. She was always terribly good at it. She takes after mother, and could disappear in the forest without leaving a sign. I, on the other hand, did not inherit mother's talent, and could almost never find her. So she took to leaving me a clue: her ring, laid on the ground with the crest facing the direction she was hiding. She knows we follow, and she will be prepared. Let us not disappoint her!" Ayden finished with zeal, his eyes gleaming with excitement for the first time since they had departed Anvard.

The Archenlanders began to prepare the horses to leave, but Galen took a moment and looked back toward the east. Aravir shone back and he smiled, knowing the Lion guided their path. The last glow of sunset gleamed in the west as the silver-white moon rose from the far-off sea. The knights embarked into the desert once more, heading for the southwest and the low, hilly shadows on the horizon.

Lyra, too, watched as the moon rose, looking out from the white-walled palace to see the slender crescent bathing the gardens below in soft milky light. The caravan had arrived that afternoon at the small palace nestled in the low mountains of northwestern Calormen. True to the manor's name, three small viridian-hued lakes lay in the valleys that spread out from the manor, and vineyards covered the hillsides in a lush green carpet. The palace itself was made of white stone and built long and low, more of a sprawling mansion than a fortress, and gardens full of flowers and little trees surrounded it.

"What think you of my palace, my love," Karim had asked as Lyra stepped out of the carriage upon their arrival, a hint of triumph coloring his voice even though she eschewed his offered hand.

"I think it a pity that one such as yourself has been allowed to darken its door," Lyra had returned icily. Karim had only laughed in response.

"You speak harshly now, but I think you will come to think of it fondly. After all, it is your home. As the poets have said, 'a sparrow may fly far and wide, but at last she will find a nest.'"

Remembering the prince's voice made Lyra's skin crawl and she shuddered as a night breeze blew through the window and tossed her hair.

A group of female servants had taken charge of her, leading her to a beautiful suite of rooms on the eastern side of the palace and busying themselves around her like a hive of frenetic, annoying bees in preparation for the supposed wedding. Silks and chiffon and jewels arrayed the rooms, and a multitude of fruit, ices, and sugared nuts covered the low table beside the cushioned divan. Niusha had endeavored to help her, bringing her a fresh dress and helping with her hair. As the servant girl had helped her with the lacing, she had noticed the Archenlander's bandaged shoulder with alarm.

"What happened, your highness?'

"Oh. Suffice it to say it was a battle wound. It is nothing worth bothering about," Lyra had brushed Niusha's concerns aside hastily.

The servant girl had not responded, but paled slightly as she finished tying the lacing of the Archenlander's dress.

Lyra did not care for the sleeveless, deep-necked Calormene dress made out of azure blue chiffon, but since the dress she had been wearing was stained with dirt and blood from her escape attempt she had little choice. The Archenlander had quickly tired of all the servants and had thrown them all out before retiring to the bedroom. Niusha had followed and closed the door behind her.

"Niusha, I need to know what is going to happen tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, your highness, is," she had hesitated, "the first day of the wedding celebration."

Lyra had paled a little, but asked her to continue and explain.

"You will be expected to remain in seclusion here until the late afternoon, when the formal celebration feast begins."

"Good. That will give us time," Lyra had decided thoughtfully, mind whirring to analyze what she had seen of the palace and plot escape routes. Niusha nodded.

"If it is alright with you, your highness, I need to see to my duties."

"Of course," Lyra had replied, finding herself finally alone to ponder on the moonlit windowsill where she now sat, the soft curtains pooling around her.

The moon had risen considerably when a small rustling sound reached the Archenlander's ears. She looked down from the large window to see a slight, feminine shadow beneath the nearby tree. Soon another shadow joined the first, this one taller and straighter, the tell-tale gleam of metal winking from the hilt of the scimitar at his side. The two embraced, and Lyra was about to turn back into her room when she heard the whispers.

"I missed you, Emeth*," Lyra heard the young woman speak in an oddly-familiar voice.

"And I you, Niusha," the young man whispered in return, tightening his embrace as though he never wanted to let her go. "I was so afraid for you back in Archenland when Prince Karim ordered the lash."

"A warrior of Calormen afraid?" Niusha chuckled, smiling up at him and pushing a stubborn lock of hair out of his eyes. He smiled a little and looked down.

"I don't know what I would have done if the barbarian princess had not intervened. I could not have borne the agony of seeing you so hurt, my love."

"Nor I the agony of seeing you suffer the same for challenging the prince's orders," Niusha returned.

"Well, now that we are home and safe it does not matter now," he said as though to brush the memories away, but Niusha interjected.

"Emeth, the Archen princess has offered me the chance to escape from Calormen: to live in Archenland where I would never have to be a slave again."

"Niusha, it would mean death if you were caught!"

"I know, but Princess Lyra is not like anyone I have ever met. She is kind, yet has a resolve as though to challenge the gods. She says she will not be wed to the prince, and I cannot help but believe her."

Emeth looked down a moment, then looked back into Niusha's eyes.

"The prince did not even bother to give the soldiers she slew a proper burial, but she would have taken your place at the mercy of the whip. I would have to have the eyes of a fool to fail to see the difference. I will trust her for your sake, my love."

"I cannot ask it of you to come with me, considering the cost if we fail."

"Nay, my love. This is what we have dreamed of doing. How could I not come with you?" Emeth smiled. "Besides, I could not let it be said that a serving girl outmatched a soldier for courage," he chuckled

Niusha smiled. "Good. I have no idea what the princess is planning, so stay as close as you can."

Emeth nodded.

"I should go now," Niusha said, leaning forward and kissing the soldier's cheek. "Be careful, Emeth. If anything should go amiss, meet me here."

"Of course, my love. Promise me you, too, will be careful."

"Always."

Lyra heard the last whisper fade away, still watching as the pair of shadows left the cover of the tree, each moving in a different direction. Lyra looked back up at the moon, now at the apex of its journey through the star-strewn sky. She took a deep breath as the warm Calormene breeze blew through the curtains and tossed her hair. She continue to craft several different escape plans, but what she had heard in the garden below troubled her. If the soldier proved untrustworthy, her escape attempt could be very short-lived indeed, and the thought of that made a twinge of fear stab at her heart.

A little while later, the Archenlander heard the creak of a door and a light footstep. Lyra turned to the door of the comfortably appointed bedroom, quietly opening it to reveal the large sitting area. Despite the dim interior, she could see Niusha close the door to the corridor and begin to tidy the sitting area, picking up the colorful lengths of fabric that the other servants had left after preparing for Lyra's wardrobe. The Archenlander silently stepped into the sitting room, crossing her arms.

"Niusha," Lyra said quietly, but firmly.

Startled, the Calormene girl jumped and spun around.

"Your highness! I thought you were asleep."

"Come," Lyra only said in response, turning back to the bedroom. Niusha followed, puzzled.

Lyra stopped next to the window, waving Niusha forward. The servant girl stepped up to the window and followed the Archenlander's gaze down to the tree. Lyra turned and leveled a firm gaze at Niusha.

"Who is he?"

"I...um...don't know what you mean, your highness."

"Do not take me for a fool. I heard your whole conversation."

"Forgive me, your highness, I should not have told anyone."

"Niusha, if your beloved truly wishes to seek asylum in Archenland with you, then it is to our advantage to include him. You do not have anything to fear from me unless he is duplicitous," Lyra replied, her words gentle, but the undertone of her voice carried a harder note.

"Oh, Emeth would never betray me. We met a few months after I came here. He does not care that I am a servant, nor I that he is nobility." Niusha smiled. "He is different than any other Calormene I've known. He's kind, and he does not enjoy being a soldier. It is not by his own choice that he fights in the Tisroc's name (may he live forever). We've always wanted to go far away, where Calormene authorities could never find us, but we never thought that was possible, until now."

"Good. Now, tell me exactly the layout of the palace so I can properly prepare a plan. Of your courtesy, tell your friend as little as possible, but have him prepared to move quickly."

Niusha nodded. "The palace is laid out on a terrace in the middle of the lake valleys. Vineyards surround the majority of it. The construction itself is long and rectangular, spreading from east to west. There are only three levels: two above and one below. The breezeway goes through the center of the palace from south to north. The stables are to the north of the building."

"I see. This does offer some possibilities. What else is to the north of the palace?"

"The valley of Lake Azar. A road goes around the lake and then turns northeast toward the little towns on the edge of the desert."

"Very good. This may well work. You said I will not be expected anywhere until tomorrow evening?"

Niusha nodded.

"I do not think it would be wise to attempt an escape in the daylight. I am too recognizable, and an escape attempt without cover of darkness would most likely end in failure." Lyra sat back and contemplated. "We'll need traveling clothes, cloaks, provisions, and horses. Horses can come at the last minute, though."

"I'll have little trouble obtaining the clothes and provisions, your highness. We can stow them here until we need them."

"Good. What is Emeth's usual assignment? Can he get us weapons?

"He is usually part of the prince's guard, and I believe he can obtain proper weapons, your highness. All soldiers are expected to have an extra scimitar, and any number of knives."

"Perfect. Then all he needs to do is stay in his normal position and be ready. Tomorrow should prove quite the adventure," Lyra declared with a smile, eyes flashing.

* * *

Morning's pale light saw the Archen horses' hooves pounding the dirt of the small road leading southwest away from the desert. Finally in Calormen, the Archenlanders hid any standard belying their allegiance, and pulled their cloak hoods up to keep from alerting any passersby as to their identity. Galen thought he was glad of all the riding he had done to escape the Narnian borders, else he would be far sorer. This was far from a pleasant journey, though. The dry jerky that the knights brought along for meals he found sorely lacking, and the sun was becoming hot even at this early hour.

"Wretchedly hot country, this!" Ewan exclaimed.

"Aye," another agreed. "A nice mug of ale sounds capital right about now."

"Do we even know where we're going?" another chimed in.

"Alright now, stop your belly-aching before the Calormenes figure us out for sure. We'll stop in a little bit," Sir Ferian chided.

A little ways down the road, they found a little building that appeared to be a tavern. There the knights dismounted and allowed their horses a rest.

"Remember, this is not a friendly place. Keep as silent as possible and Lion's mane try to look intimidating," Ayden instructed the sand-dusted group.

The party burst into the tavern, Ayden stepping with a confident air of authority. Galen stood directly to his left, and the rest of the knights followed them. As they entered the building, a short portly man with a dark beard stumbled out of the back room and scraped a groveling little bow.

"What pleases my masters to have this fine morning?" said he.

"Breakfast and mugs of ale for everyone, proprietor," Ayden ordered.

"Of course, o my exalted guest, immediately. Please rest yourselves," the man replied, turning into the back room once again and barking orders. The knights found seats around a large table and sat, waiting for the proprietor to return. They glanced nervously at each other as they waited. In a few minutes, the man returned, followed by two serving girls who carried platters. They set the plates of food and mugs of frothy ale in front of the Archen knights, and silently returned to the kitchen. The proprietor scraped another bow.

"Is there anything else my good northern guests wish? You are from the north, are you not? What brings you so far south, if I may so humbly inquire?"

Ayden stiffened, and several of the knights exchanged glances. Before Ayden could speak, Galen surreptitiously gestured for him to be silent, and answered the Calormene man himself.

"We are renowned soldiers of fortune, proprietor, and you have no right to question us, lowly person that you are. We have business in the Valley of the Three Lakes on the orders of Prince Karim himself. We require nothing else but our privacy. Continue to question us and there is nothing to keep us from mounting your head on a spear in front of your own tavern, leave us in peace and keep your tongue from wagging after we are gone and we will see that you are well rewarded. Now leave us."

"Of course, your excellency, my apologies. I am but a dog in your noble presences, and I will see that my great and excellent guests are not disturbed." The terrified looking man began scraping bows again, and bowed all the way back to the kitchen.

Once he was gone, Galen looked back at his companions to see all the Archenlanders looking at him aghast.

"Galen, what just happened?" Ayden leaned over. "That seemed very unlike you, although I must admit it was very clever in getting us out of quite a scrape."

"Sneakiness was a requirement for survival in Narnia. I learned to adapt to the circumstances, and in this one I imitated a Telmarine. They do act remarkably similar to Calormenes, I've found, just without all the platitudes and formalities."

"I see," Ayden replied, impressed.

"Here's to Galen, then, my fellow mercenaries!" Sir Ewan grinned, raising his mug, and the others followed suit, their laughter filling the little room.

The Archenlanders finished their meal, and the proprietor nervously returned as the knights stood to leave. Ayden motioned for the rest to go outside and ready the horses, while Galen turned towards the proprietor.

"Your hospitality was to our satisfaction," he said brusquely.

"I am delighted, o great and noble guests. Is there anything else that my pitiful self can do for you?"

"You may direct us toward the manor of Prince Karim. We have business to conclude."

"Of course, my lord. Follow this road to the south, then turn towards the southwest at the first fork. That road leads into the valley of Lake Azar, and you will find the place you seek at the other end of the lake."

"Good," Galen answered curtly.

Ayden handed the man several gold coins. "For your hospitality and our privacy," he said as Galen kept a stern gaze at the man.

"Of course, excellencies, of course. Thank you!" The man bowed again, and the Archenlander and Narnian turned and swept out of the tavern.

Once outside, they let out a collective sigh of relief. Galen did not much like acting so Telmarine, but at least they knew where they would be going now.

The party remounted and continued their journey, Archen hooves pounding the dirt road beneath them.

* * *

The morning dawned bright, golden light spilling through Lyra's window. She dressed and went into the sitting room in search of breakfast, finding that the bothersome servants had returned and busily worked on a dozen different things, although the most prominent (and disquieting) was the monstrosity of silk brocade that Lyra supposed to be a wedding gown. She found a bit of breakfast, and slightly before mid-day a loud knock sounded on the door. A servant scurried to open it, and a tall, dark-skinned man with a white turban and gold armband entered the room. He carried a platter covered with a silk napkin, and on the napkin lay a large, intricate filigree necklace of gold and sapphires, the prince's standard at the center of it.

"I bring tidings from the Prince Karim, your highness," the man spoke. "He hopes you will accept this token from him as a sign of your impending marriage."

"I will do no such thing!"

"I beg your pardon, your highness," the man blinked.

"I will not accept anything from that miserable excuse for a prince, and I will not be married to him!"

"The prince hoped you would not speak thusly."

"Then he is to be disappointed. Begone with you," she ordered the man, who bowed stiffly and complied.

"Why do you act so childishly?" One older woman questioned Lyra.

"I beg your pardon?" Lyra answered crossly, surprised at the servants brazenness.

"You behave as though marrying the prince is a horrible thing and as though you have a choice. Behave as the woman you are! You have been given a great opportunity, you have no choice but to take it, and if you take it graciously it will spare us all a great deal of trouble."

"I see," Lyra replied icily. She looked around the room and saw all the servants staring at her. They were obviously dumbfounded by their companion's bold chiding, but they also obviously agreed with her. "Listen closely to me, then, Rasha," Lyra addressed the woman in steely tones, "I am no Calormene. I am a princess and free citizen of the sovereign state of Archenland and I will never marry your prince were he the emperor of the entire world. You may keep your opinion to yourself."

Rasha glared a moment, then curtsied and murmured an apology before moving away.

Lyra went back to her room and checked the provisions and supplies she and Niusha had gathered early that morning. After a little while, a knock sounded at the door.

"Yes?" Lyra answered. Rasha stepped in, her face inscrutable.

"A servant came with this," she held out an envelope for Lyra to take. The Archenlander raised an eyebrow as she opened it and began to read:

"_My dear princess,_

_It is unfortunate that you still remain so stubborn as to refuse the token of my esteem and of our impending union. I had hoped you would come to accept what is, o delight of my eyes, and that further persuasion would be unnecessary. But, since you insist on behaving as dry and intractable as the desert itself, the servant for whom you have shown such concern will be held in confinement until after the celebration. She need not come to any harm, should you decide to leave your stubbornness in the barbarian north, where it belongs. I await you at the wedding celebration this evening. For your handmaid's sake, I hope you do not fail to come, my bride._

_~ Prince Karim ~"_

Lyra looked back at at Rasha, her eyes wide. At that moment, the Archenlander heard a scream from the other room. Pushing Rasha aside, she hurried back into the sitting room, where two guards had seized Niusha by either arm.

"What have I done?" Niusha pleaded, struggling.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lyra thundered.

"The prince's orders, your highness," one laconically replied. The guards continued to pull Niusha towards the door.

"I will not allow it!" Lyra declared, but to no avail. She rushed forward and would have pulled the guards off the servant girl, but one of them pushed her to the floor.

_"Please, Lyra, don't let them hurt me!"_

Before she could do anything else, the door shut behind them, leaving only Niusha's whispered plea hanging in the air.

Lyra stood back up, nearly crying for all the anger burning inside her heart. She crumpled up the prince's letter and threw it savagely against the wall as she turned back to her room and forcefully shut the door behind her. She found herself with the insatiable desire to hit something, but instead stood beside the window. She sighed frustratedly and rested her head in her hand as the tears of fury and frustration came.

"_He calls me barbarian, and yet this is what he does to his own people,_" she fumed in thought. "_Aslan, what do I do now?_" She prayed, looking towards the eastern sky once more. There she stood for some time, lost in thought. Tonight would bring a thousand dangers, and if it were only the dangers of battle she thought she would not worry so. Nothing made her feel as frightened as the thought of being trapped in this place, the slave of that horrible excuse for a prince. She watched the shadows grow longer as the sun dipped toward the western horizon, and a sigh escaped her as she saw Aravir shining in the east.

Another knock sounded at her door.

"Your highness, it is time to prepare for the celebration," the servant declared nervously. Lyra did not reply, but followed the servant into the sitting room.

"That is atrocious," she said, pointing to the brocade dress Lina, another serving girl, held.

"You will only have to wear it a little while," the girl replied nervously.

Lyra merely arched an eyebrow. After a moment spent glowering at the monstrosity, she took it from the girl's hands and swept back into her room.

"Your highness, do you not wish any help preparing?" Lina called after her.

"No!"

Lyra then changed out of her blue dress and into the traveling clothes Niusha had provided: Calormene pantaloons, a soft bishop-sleeved cotton shirt, and a sleeveless linen tunic. Over these clothes she donned the dreadful Calormene dress, but she wore her boots instead of ball slippers. Inside the back seam of the dress she tucked a knife, and in her boot she concealed another: the Calormenes had never searched her, to their detriment. She made sure to pin her hair up carefully, securing it well and out of the way with the large golden hairpin that concealed her last knife. Looking into the mirror, Lyra huffed in momentary disgust. The dress was made of a white and gold silk brocade, and the skirt had many layers of fabric. The enormous sleeves draped across her arms and the fabric trailed towards the floor.

"_Aslan help me_," she thought as she took a deep breath and steeled herself for the adventure the evening would bring.

The Archenlander stepped out of the bedroom into the sitting room of attendants, confidant and collected, looking (even in the Calormene garb) every inch the princess she was.

* * *

Author's Note: On using the name Emeth, I've always liked it ever since reading _The Last Battle,_ and surely there were other people to go by that name in the rest of Narnia's time, so I thought it fitting. I leave it to your judgement, dear readers, to decide on the merits.

It would be just wonderful if you could leave a review on the way out! Thanks for reading!


	22. Chapter 21: Power Revealed

_Author's Note: Well, I thought I had this chapter well along, but I suppose school had other ideas. My humble apologies, dear readers. I'll quit promising a schedule to which I cannot keep. As compensation, this chapter is extra-long. The longest chapter to date, actually. I do hope you enjoy it. I was going to break it into two chapters, but there really was not a good place to break it up. This was wonderful fun to write. I hope you, dear readers, enjoy it as much as I. I would love to hear what you think!_

_Disclaimer: Narnia is certainly not mine. No copyright infringement is intended._

Chapter the Twenty-First: Power Revealed

* * *

_10 Mayblossom 2076, Northwestern Calormen_

By mid-day the party of knights reached the fork in the road and continued on the southwestern fork. The hills began to rise around them, the road snaking deeper into the valley. Finally, just as the sun began to dip below the western horizon, the knights turned a corner in the road and saw a long blue-green lake spread out in front of them. The vineyards on the hillsides became shrouded in shadow as the tops of the hills glowed as though the sunset had set them aflame. Trees surrounded the edges of the lake, and the Archenlanders and Narnian set up a camp of sorts in a little grove at the end and tended to the horses. From there they could see the sprawling manor house, glowing with light. The northerners could catch strains of curious flute music that floated on the air. Galen looked at it with foreboding-the manor seemed so beautiful, yet the very sight of it repulsed him.

"How should we attack?" Galen asked, looking towards Ayden. One look at the Archen prince's face could tell that he felt the same way as Galen towards the manor house. The Archenlander's jaw was set firmly and his eyes sparked with green flame. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword and he did not answer, instead fingering with his other hand the pommel of the second sword-his sister's-that he carried.

"They will most likely have too many soldiers for us to mount a direct attack. I recommend stealth, my lord," Sir Ferian advised, "We can leave the horses here and then circle around the house and infiltrate it silently."

"I agree," Sir Torban concurred, running a hand through his dark, messy hair before letting it rest on his sword hilt.

"Stealth is no stranger to me, Ayden," Galen interjected. "If the years in Narnia's woods have taught me anything they have taught me that. I recommend those of us with bows use them primarily instead of swords. We can better keep the element of surprise."

"Good," Ayden answered, shaking himself out of his reverie and focusing on the task at hand. "How many others carry bows?"

Two other knights, Sirs Drenan and Ewan, raised their bows in reply.

"Good. Sir Galen, you will take point. Sir Ewan, behind him, and Sir Drenan, you will guard our backs," Ayden ordered. The knights nodded in reply. "As soon as it is quite dark, we will move out. Aiolos, will you be alright guarding our mounts?"

"Indeed, your highness. Horses are not renowned for their stealth," Aiolos chuckled. "I'll be sure your mounts will not forsake us."

"Thank you, good Horse," Ayden nodded.

The next half hour saw Galen and the Archenlanders fold up cloaks, string their bows, and ready their swords. After ensuring the water containers were filled from the lake and the horses were well-tethered to the trees, Ayden gave the order to advance.

"Aslan between you and danger, my friend," Aiolos said to Galen. Galen laid a hand on the Horse's neck and murmured his thanks.

"Are you sure you will you be alright here?"

"Now, young one, no time for that," the Horse cheerfully chided. "Your friend and the Knife await you."

Galen nodded, and turned back towards the manor house that spread out before them.

The knights moved out of the trees and toward the vineyard that spread out through the valley. The moon shone softly on them, the sliver of a crescent thankfully not too bright. Galen thought later that the landscape must have been beautiful, but in that moment, as the Narnian stepped carefully through the rows of grapevines, an arrow on the string, he could think on nothing else but the manor house and feel little else than the knot of apprehension, repulsion, and anger that settled in his heart. The Archen knights followed him, Sir Drenan and his bow at his heels. In a few minutes, the party left the vineyards behind and came upon the palace gardens. Galen paused a moment to survey the terrain before him-the garden's lovely plant life offered little cover, but up ahead a little ways stood a small tree.

"Aslan, help me," Galen fleetingly whispered (his focus returning to the task at hand) before motioning for the rest to remain crouched between the grapevine rows. He darted out from the cover of the grapevines and silently traversed the distance to the tree. Taking a position behind it, he scanned the area for guards and when he was sure it was safe, he motioned for the rest to follow. The tree was not large enough to provide cover for all ten knights, so as the rest moved one by one to the tree, Galen darted from the tree to the manor house wall, and one by one they followed until all stood pressed against the wall. The music was louder now, the sound of tambourine, drum, and flute mingling on the air. Galen edged towards the northwest corner of the house and peeked around it. Two Calormene soldiers stood just ahead, one on either side of the western entrance. The Narnian indicated this to Sir Ewan, then pulled the bow string back to his ear. He swiftly turned the corner and let the grey-fletched arrow fly. The arrow struck the farthest Calormene in the chest, and before the other soldier could sound the alarm, Sir Ewan had also turned the corner and loosed his string. The Archen arrow caught the nearest Calormene in the neck, and both fell to the ground with little sound save the reverberating hum of bowstrings.

The rest of the knights turned the corner as well, swords at the ready. There was no need, though, and Galen and Ewan moved towards the entrance as soon as they each held a new arrow on the string. The marble hallway before them was partly in shadow and looked deserted, so the Narnian stepped carefully inside.

No alarm sounded, and the northern knights began to silently progress down the hall.

* * *

Meanwhile, Lyra found herself walking towards the banquet hall on the south side of the manor house, arrayed in the dreadful Calormene dress. Several of the servants followed, and once outside the eastern wing, two guards took up positions directly behind her on either side and followed. Their boots echoed loudly on the floor as they walked, and that along with the faint jingle of chain mail made Lyra feel rather like she was being escorted to her execution instead of her wedding.

_"It might as well be an execution_," the Archenlander thought wryly, and the words she thought rang truer than their sarcasm belied.

From down the hallway she could hear the sound of a reedy flute and an assortment of small drums. Lyra continued to walk, and soon enough the hallway opened into a wide room that encompassed most of the southeast wing. The music was louder now, and she could see that the room was festively decorated with scarlet silk and gold. The guards took up positions at either side of the doorway as Lyra took a deep breath and entered. The room was full of noisy chatter as the overdressed persons within partook of the feast that lay on the tables that lined the room. A narrow aisle ran between the two rows of tables and along the aisle a group of skilled (but scantily clad, Lyra observed with a trifle of disdain) female dancers swayed to the intricate, twining rhythms of the drums and flute. A last table was settled at the top of the dais at the other end of the room, and there she could see Prince Karim, in all his pompous, feathered glory, sitting in a plush chair and thoroughly enjoying himself. The Archenlander stepped forward into the room, then stopped and crossed her arms.

"You call this a wedding? Little wonder Calormen is so disagreeable," she observed dryly, raising her voice so that it resonated off the walls and reached the ears of all present. Immediately the room went silent. The dancing girls quietly cleared the floor.

"Ah, my ice princess, you have come at last!" Karim exclaimed, jumping down from the dais and walking (Lyra thought it was more like prancing) towards her.

"I am here, foul prince, as you have asked. Release the servant Niusha."

"In time, delight-of-my-eyes, in time," he answered, reaching her. He snapped his fingers, and some sort of colorfully arrayed priest approached, accompanied by a servant with a tray which held the necklace offered to her earlier. The Calormene prince took the necklace from the tray and moved to fasten it around Lyra's neck. The Archenlander took a step back and pushed his hand away.

"I will accept nothing from you, most loathsome of creatures," she responded, eyes flashing.

"My dear Lyra," the prince stepped forward again, the corners of his mouth turned up in an all-too clever smirk, "you will accept it and everything it entails," he whispered, "or the servant girl will suffer most exquisitely. She has already endured the lash for your earlier stubbornness, but if you insist on protesting, I have but to nod to yonder soldier and I promise you, oh-delight-of-my-eyes, that were you in Tashbaan you would still be able to hear her screams."

Lyra glared at the prince silently, anger welling up inside her as she clenched her jaw. She reached out and took the necklace from Karim, fastening it around her neck herself.

The priest held a little censer which held of some sort of incense. This odd little vessel he waved once or twice before handing it to the servant.

"Prince Karim, do you wish to take this woman as your own?"

"Yes," the prince answered smugly.

"Then so be it," the priest returned.

"Wait!" Lyra exclaimed. "I want no part of this! What of my consent?"

"You have accepted the necklace-token, have you not?" The old priest asked pointedly.

"Not of my own volition!"

"It matters not insofar as a woman is concerned. You wear the token, that is sufficient," the priest answered with little effort, as though brushing away a bothersome fly.

He took Karim's hand by the wrist, palm upwards, in one of his hands and Lyra's hand in his other, laying her hand on top of the prince's.

"Rejoice, friends and subjects!" Karim exclaimed, turning towards those assembled, holding their joined hands above them both. "Behold, your princess!" A gong reverberated through the hall, then the music started anew as he walked back towards the dais. Once he was seated, he indicated Lyra's seat beside his and she took it.

The dancers returned and the steady drum rhythms and loud chatter began once more as the courtiers took to their meals. Quite a while passed as the Archenlander sat stiffly in her chair, eschewing the bounty of food laid out in front of her as anger coursed through veins.

It seemed there was little else to compose the Calormene wedding, and after a little while she began to examine alternatives. The hall was too crowded and the guard with Niusha's life in his hands too near for Lyra to attempt anything in the hall itself.

"_Perhaps_," thought she, "_I have been approaching the escape wrongly. Subterfuge might prove a more fruitful endeavor._"

The Archenlander raised her glass to her lips and pretended to drink.

"Perhaps this land is not without its pleasures," she observed loudly enough for Karim to hear.

"Has my fair ice princess finally thawed?" Karim asked with a smile.

"Perchance," Lyra replied, smiling slightly again. "I must admit that even Archenland does not contain such riches as you have displayed here, and the fruit of yonder vineyards is most distinctive."

"Ah, indeed, my love, my vineyards are beyond compare, and baubles to delight your womanish fancy you will not lack!"

"In truth?" Lyra replied, feigning interest while biting back the retort that came to mind. "Perhaps I was hasty indeed."

"My heart rejoices to hear your lips speak thusly, oh-the-delight of my eyes," declared Karim, with one hand stroking the side of her face.

It took the entirety of her strength to smile instead of pulling away. The prince returned to his food, and Lyra began to eat a little of hers. The celebration continued, and after a few minutes Lyra turned to Prince Karim.

"The evening is long, is it not, my lord?" She began, placing a light hand on the Calormene's arm. He inclined his head in agreement. "I find myself tiring of these festivities. Surely there are other pursuits to which we may devote the remainder of the evening," Lyra raised an eyebrow and smiled slyly.

For his part, the prince made no attempt to disguise the greed that lit his eyes as she spoke. "I thought you would never ask, my love," he replied, standing and offering his hand.

Lyra took it and stood, walking with Karim out of the banquet hall and towards the northern end of the palace. On the way, Karim beckoned a soldier to follow. Once they reached a particular hallway, the prince motioned for the soldier to stand guard.

"Emeth, make sure we are not disturbed."

"Of course, your highness," Emeth answered, but glanced toward Lyra, who nodded almost imperceptibly to him, indicating for him to remain where he was.

The prince turned into a large, lavishly appointed room, allowing Lyra to enter first. Karim shut the door, then turned around to face Lyra. However, the sight he expected was not the sight he saw. As he turned around, Lyra reached behind her shoulder and drew the throwing knife from the back of the dress. Before he could take a step or utter a word, the prince felt a sensation of fire explode in his chest, and he looked down to see Archen steel drawing an ever expanding crimson stain. He stumbled back and fell to the ground, the rich carpet beneath him quickly ruined.

Lyra quickly extricated herself from the Calormene dress in favor of the traveling clothes she wore beneath it. The Archenlander approached the prince and walked around him slowly. His eyes struggled to focus as his breathing became increasingly labored.

"How…?" He managed to choke out, eyes wide with fear.

"How could I do this to you?" Lyra supplied, voice as hard as the steel that she had thrown. She tore the Calormene necklace from her neck and dropped it on the floor, crushing it beneath her heel as she walked. Leaning over him, she pinned his arm down with her boot as her hand curled around the knife hilt. "You underestimated me too much, my lord," she answered. "I will never be yours," she growled, removing the knife sharply. The prince cried out in pain and then lay still.

* * *

Galen continued down the hallway, the Archenlanders close behind him. The Narnian stopped as the hallway opened into another corridor. A Calormene soldier stood guard to the right, as yet unaware of the danger in which he found himself.

"You move, you die," Galen stated with icy simplicity as he turned the corner and leveled his arrow at the Calormene's chest. Ewan turned the corner as well and stood with his back to Galen's, his arrow guarding the corridor's other side. Ayden and the other knights quickly surrounded the soldier and took up vantage points around the area. The Calormene's eyes went wide.

"Please spare me, bold northerners!"

"Pray tell, why should we do that?" Ayden asked with deadly calm, the tip of his sword resting at the base of the Calormene's throat.

"I...I can help you."

"Indeed?" Ayden replied coolly. "Name and rank," the Archen prince ordered tersely.

"Second lieutenant Emeth Tarkaan."

"Well, second lieutenant Emeth Tarkaan, I will ask you this once. Where is my sister?"

"With Prince Karim, your highness, there," Emeth hurriedly pointed.

"Reinald, kick in the door!" Ayden ordered the nearest knight sharply, eyes ablaze with green-flamed fury.

"I did not want to let her go with him, but she indicated for me to stay here."

Puzzlement mingled with the fury on Ayden's face. The hall reverberated with a dull thud as Sir Reinald struck the door near the knob. The door shuddered on its hinges, but did not break.

"What do you mean 'she indicated for you to stay here'?" Ayden pressed the sword more firmly, forcing Emeth to his knees.

"I...I was going to help her and one of her servants escape. Niusha and I have wanted to escape Calormen for years, and this seemed our best chance."

"Indeed," Ayden said suspiciously, more of a declaration of mistrust than a query. The Calormene met the Archenlander's gaze, silently begging him to believe him.

Reinald kicked the door again, and this time the lock gave way and the door flew open. The Archen knight hurried into the room, followed closely by Ayden and Galen.

"Sir Reinald?" Galen and Ayden heard a startled, familiar voice exclaim with relief from within the room.

The Archen knight had entered the room to see the person they had come to rescue poised to throw a knife towards his throat.

"My lady, it is a relief to see you unharmed," the dark-haired knight bowed, smiling as she lowered the knife. Ayden fairly pushed the knight out of the way as he rushed forward into the room.

"Lyra!" Ayden hurried to embrace his sister. "Thou art well?"

"Aye, brother, I am well," Lyra smiled. "I knew thou wouldst come."

"It is good to see you, Lyra," Galen smiled, grasping her forearm in the traditional handshake of warriors and of friends.

"A sight for sore eyes you are, the lot of you!" Lyra laughed. "I thought the palace soldiers were trying to break in the door."

"Come, let us be rid of this loathsome place!" Ayden exclaimed, practically pulling Lyra towards the door.

"Wait-Ayden, we need to find the Stone Knife," Galen interjected.

"The Stone Knife-what, that Calormene took it from Anvard?" Lyra asked, shocked.

"Aye," Ayden answered grimly. "Let's find that miserable excuse for a prince and beat its location out of him," the Archenlander growled.

"Erm...my lord?" Sir Reinald nudged Ayden and pointed towards the blood stained corner behind him. Ayden glanced impatiently in the direction the knight indicated, then turned quickly back towards his sister.

"Ah. Never mind. Good for you, sister!" Ayden smiled, the first Galen had seen cross the Archen prince's face since they left Anvard. Ayden leaned out the doorway and motioned for the rest of the Archenlanders to join them instead of remaining conspicuous in the hallway.

"Tear the room apart," Ayden ordered. "Find the Stone Knife, then we leave."

"What of this one?" The knight who held Emeth asked.

"Let him go, Sir Torban," Lyra instructed.

"My lady?" The knight looked at the princess quizzically.

"Then he has helped you as he claimed?" Ayden turned to his sister, who nodded.

"Aye, brother. He loves the servant girl Prince Karim assigned to attend me, and Emeth and Niusha have been invaluable in helping plan our escape."

"Good," Ayden nodded. "Then we need only collect the servant girl-Niusha you said her name is?-and begone."

"Ah, there's the rub, brother," Lyra shook her head. "That pitiful excuse for a prince lacked a great deal, but one thing he did well enough was use a weakness to his advantage. He realized that I cared what happened to Niusha - 'tis a long story, but in short I kept her from receiving unjust punishment - and he threatened her to coerce my cooperation. I do not know where she is being held."

As she spoke, Galen noticed Emeth blanch. Lyra noticed it as well.

"I am sorry Emeth," the Archen princess spoke. "Do you know where Niusha might be?"

"Did the prince say anything about her before he died?" The Calormene asked in a soft voice.

"Earlier in the banquet hall he threatened to torture her. He said he had already had her beaten," Lyra answered, an angry undercurrent surging beneath her steady tones.

Emeth looked down briefly, and when he looked back to the northern warriors in front of him his eyes were hard and determined.

"Then she is probably being held in the dungeons. I am going to get her out," he turned toward the door, hand on his scimitar hilt.

"Not by yourself," Lyra laid a hand on his arm to stop him. "We will not leave without her," she reassured him.

"I little think it wise to tarry here," Ayden grew impatient. "Galen, is the Stone Knife here?"

"We cannot find it anywhere," Galen answered disappointedly.

"Aye, we've torn the room apart," Sir Glynan, a fiery haired youth (who was normally quite jovial) answered. His older brother Sir Glyn stood beside him, equally empty-handed.

"Prince Karim was very proud of the Stone Knife," Emeth interjected. "He boasted a great deal of his conquest, but I do not know where he kept it. The prince had a secret hideaway somewhere in the palace where he would often disappear for hours on end. It is rumored he kept his most special weapons and prizes of conquest there. No one but the prince's closest advisor, the fearsome man who carries out all of his orders, would know where it is."

"Where is this advisor?" Galen asked.

"I do not know. I did not see him at the banquet."

"We'll find this advisor, but first, let us free Niusha!" Lyra insisted.

"I agree. We are yet on borrowed time," Sir Ferian grimly concurred.

Galen took up his bow and laid an arrow to the string, as did Sir Ewan.

"Which way is the dungeon?" Galen asked Emeth, who indicated that he should turn to the left.

The Archenlanders and Narnian moved forward as before, stealthily gaining vantage points as they moved throughout the corridor, the Narnian arrow-tip pointing the way.

They paused for a moment as Galen and Ewan made sure the cross-corridor was clear.

"I almost forgot!" Ayden exclaimed (albeit in whispered tones). Lyra looked at him quizzically as he removed a scabbard from his sword-belt. "I believe you dropped this, sister," he smiled.

The Archen princess took her sword from her brother's hand and smiled in return, the sword finding its rightful place in her hand again.

The party continued to move down the corridor, soon reaching the cross-corridor that ran around the southern side of the manor.

"Now where?" Ayden asked.

"Follow this corridor east. There will be a stairwell on the left. It leads down to the lower level: the soldiers' mess, armory, and the dungeons.

"Soldiers' mess and armory?" Sir Glynan exclaimed. "Lion's mane! Could you've picked a harder target? Perhaps you'd like us to raid Tashbaan's treasure tower while we're at it!"

"Nay, brother," Sir Glyn answered, an impish grin playing with the corners of his lips. "We're leaving you that job."

The rest of the knights chuckled. Galen and Ewan looked out into the south corridor, and Galen promptly motioned for silence. He could see the stairwell to the lower level, but two Calormene soldiers stood guard on either side.

"I can get them to leave," Emeth volunteered.

"No," Ayden replied tersely, holding up his hand to halt the eager Calormene. The Archenlander did not harbor an overabundance of trust for their newfound companion.

Ayden instead nodded to Ewan, who turned the corner swiftly and let his arrow fly. The projectile caught the furthest Calormene in the chest and felled him without a sound. His companion turned towards the intruders, but before he could draw his sword, Galen's arrow left him lifeless as well.

The party quickly advanced into the stairwell. Ayden nodded indicated to four of the knights-Drenan, Torban, Marin, and Reinald to hide the Calormenes in the shadowed alcove beside the stairs. Galen silently took each step, his arrow at the ready. At the base of the stairwell he could see dim torchlight spill onto the last sandstone step, illuminating the worn stone floor beneath him. The Narnian peered around the corner. A corridor spread out in front of him, and although the corridor itself was deserted, he could hear raucous laughter and the clatter of dishes coming from the doorway to the right. The doorway to the left must have been the armory, Galen thought, because a curved Calormene scimitar hung above the door. At the northern end of the corridor Galen could see a heavy iron door.

"The door at the end there is the entrance to the dungeon," Emeth whispered. "We can get to it without being seen. The door to the soldiers' mess is always closed, and no one much cares to go down in the dungeon without a reason."

Galen nodded, then motioned for the rest of the Archenlanders to follow. Galen and Ewan made sure to step silently as they snuck past the two doors. Galen could feel his heart in his throat as they moved past the doorway to the soldiers' mess. A loud burst of laughter startled the Narnian for the barest moment, but no one exited and Galen and Ewan reached the dungeon door unobserved. The other Archenlanders followed, trying to keep silent as well. Although they were not as quiet, the Calormene soldiers in the next room paid whatever footsteps they heard no mind.

The dungeon door was set within a convenient little alcove that provided adequate cover for the knights. Galen put a hand to the door handle a pulled. It was not locked, but the stiff hinges protested with a squeal, and for a moment the northern knights held their breaths. As soon as he could, Galen ducked inside, Lyra, Ayden and the rest of the knights behind them. Ewan, however, stayed within the alcove to keep watch, hiding imperceptibly in the shadows.

Once inside the door, six steps lead down to the dirty, sunken room. Torches flickered from their wall-sconces, casting an eery light over the room. Galen felt thoroughly unsettled, his heart becoming heavy and withdrawing within himself, so strong was the sense of evil that pervaded the dungeon. Lyra stepped close behind him, her sword poised to attack. One glance at her face told Galen that she could feel the same evil emanating from the room.

The room dropped off into a main corridor lined with several heavy doors with strong locks. At the end of the corridor, however, more torches flickered and the hallway seemed to open into a workspace of some sort, with several benches of neatly laid out tools (although what exactly the tools were, Galen could not make out). The knights started a moment as they began to hear a voice: a voice of such a weaselly tone it would otherwise have been comical, but the thin, nasal tone held a sinister edge.

"I really rather hope that the barbarian princess continues to vex his highness, my dear," the voice declared with a dry laugh. "I always relish the opportuity to practice my favorite pastime."

A rough screech, the sound of steel being sharpened, punctuated the last phrase.

Lyra's was not the only countenance crossed by horror.

"That's him: Prince Karim's vizier, Tamarak," Emeth whispered, eyes wide with fear.

The knights hurried to take up defensive positions while Lyra and Emeth rushed forward, Ayden and Galen directly behind them.

"What is this! I gave orders not to be disturbed except for the prince's messenger!" The owner of the voice exclaimed as Emeth came around the corner. His frustration quickly turned to fear as Lyra took the man by surprise, forcing him to the ground with a well-aimed kick and holding the tip of her blade at his throat.

"The prince is dead," Lyra snarled venomously. "Keep silent or you will join him."

"Niusha!" Emeth exclaimed, hurrying towards the other end of the room.

Galen looked up and saw a pitiful figure curled up in the corner, secured to the wall with heavy chains. The back of the tunic she was wearing was shredded and stained with blood. He looked around, and the realization of the room's purpose made the Narnian's stomach turn.

"Emeth?" a small voice asked.

"Yes, my love, I am here," Emeth answered as he put an arm around her and stroked her forehead.

"Keys," Lyra demanded tersely, pressing the tip of her sword more forcefully to the vizier's throat. Tamarak managed to point to a heavy ring of keys that hung from a hook on the wall.

Lyra snatched the keys from the wall and sheathed her sword, hurrying to unlock the cruelly heavy manacles. The vizier would have tried to escape, but Torban and Ayden quickly leveled their swords at him and he thought the better of it.

Throwing the chains away, Lyra helped Niusha to sit up, but the servant girl cried out.

"Niusha, what happened? What did he do?"

"The lash, my lady," she answered, taking a shuddering breath and relaxing in Emeth's arms. "The prince was very angry you would not voluntarily accept his hand. Out of spite, he ordered that the punishment you kept him from carrying out in Archenland be executed."

"Niusha, I am so sorry," the Archenlander took the girl's hand. "He'll never do anything to you or anyone else ever again," her eyes hardened as she spoke, and for a moment a thick pause settled over the dungeon.

"Where is the Stone Knife?" Galen demanded of the Calormene at the end of his sword.

"I do not know," the vizier whined pitifully.

"Ayden, do you have any water?" Lyra asked her brother, who promptly tossed her the container he carried. As yet, the other Archenlanders had not spoken, but the heavy silence they kept spoke volumes as to the disgust and horror they felt for what had befallen the servant girl.

"Can you walk?" Lyra asked Niusha after helping her drink.

"I think so."

"Good. We'll not stay here another minute," the Archen princess declared.

As she spoke, suddenly deep bells began tolling, breaking the silence of the night.

"They must have discovered some of our handiwork," Galen fingered his bow.

"We need to leave now!" Ayden urgently declared.

Sir Ewan ducked into the dungeon from outside.

"The Calormenes are mustering upstairs. This floor is swarming with soldiers. They are not coming here yet, but I do not know how long that will last."

"For the last time, where is the Stone Knife?" Galen demanded again.

"I'll not tell a barbarian. You could walk right past it and not even know," Tamarak sneered, finding his arrogance with the sound of the warning bells.

Galen paced towards the other wall in frustration, praying for Aslan to help him find it.

"Vizier Tamarak!" A loud knock sounded on the outer iron door. "Vizier Tamarak! Prince Karim and several soldiers are dead! The manor is under attack!"

"They're here! Help!" Tamarak managed to yell before Ayden relieved him of the ability to ever do so again.

"Soldiers of the Tisroc to arms, may he live forever!" The group could hear the battle cry let loose upon the air.

Ewan had managed to lock the door, but the soldiers outside began to pound it down.

"Take defensive positions!" Ayden ordered, and the knights fell back, taking the most protected positions.

"Galen, look!" Lyra suddenly exclaimed, pointing to his sword.

Then Narnian looked down and was startled: the sapphires that encircled the pommel glowed with blue light, the same blue light as the Stone Knife's pommel had glowed the day of the siege at Anvard.

"What could this mean?" Lyra asked.

"The light grows more intense when the sword moves closer to the wall," Galen observed.

The iron door shuddered as the Calormenes struck it once more. Then, a shout bade the attackers cease. The spare key had been retrieved from the guardhouse.

"They're going to be swarming in here in a moment! Is there any way out of this death trap?" Ayden asked, directing his question to Emeth.

"Ayden, I may have found the prince's hideaway. The Stone Knife must be behind this wall! Perhaps there is a way out from there," Galen interjected.

"Then I encourage you to find it, and quickly," the Archen prince responded, turning his eyes to the dungeon door and joining the other knights.

"Emeth, Niusha, come over here, quickly!" Lyra ordered. Emeth helped Niusha stand and they did as Lyra instructed.

The distinctive creak of iron hinges rent the air, and Calormene soldiers rushed through the entrance. Ewan and Drenan took to their bows and struck down seven before the Archen knights were force to join battle. Clashes of steel meeting steel filled the air, together with the cries of the newly wounded.

To Galen's relief, those cries came from unfamiliar voices. The Narnian knight brought his sword hilt closer to the wall and ran it along the wall until the jewels reached their brightest.

"It must be here! Lyra, help me find the opening."

The pair felt along the stones, tapping here and there.

"Galen! We need to get out of here!" Ayden's voice rang urgently, accompanied by the ever-present ring of steel. "We are losing ground!"

"Here!" Galen exclaimed, pointing to a thin metal strip that protruded from the space between two bricks. He pushed it upwards, and they heard a distinctive click. A moment later, the section of the east wall pivoted inwards, revealing another room.

"Fall back!" Lyra shouted. The Archen knights hurried to obey, yielding ground readily to the onslaught of Calormenes. Lyra made sure Niusha and Emeth were through the doorway, then waved Ewan and Glynan through. One by one, the rest of the Archen knights ducked through the doorway, until only Ayden, Lyra, and Galen held them back.

"Push the door closed!" Ayden ordered.

"I'm not leaving you here!" Lyra countered as she slashed at the nearest Calormene.

"You don't have to!"

Lyra looked at her brother, then pulled Galen through the door with her. Drenan and Glyn began to push the door closed, and just before it shut, Ayden slipped through.

"That will hold them at least a moment," Ayden wiped perspiration from his brow.

Galen looked around a moment. The room in which they found themselves was covered in rich tapestries, gold, and plush furniture. The walls were lined with various weapons, paintings, and jewels: Prince Karim's prizes of conquest. On the north wall rested the only prize Galen sought. Still in its carved box, nestled in age-old blue velvet, sat the Stone Knife.

"That door will not hold them for long. Find a way out of this place!" Ayden ordered.

Galen made sure the Knife case was fastened securely before tucking it in his bag.

"Here!" Sir Marin called. He had found an ornate wooden door on the west wall. The Archen knight opened it, revealing a spiraling stairwell.

"Galen, take point!" Ayden ordered, and the Narnian began to ascend the stairwell, Ewan, Lyra, and their Calormene companions behind him.

After ascending several flights, the stairwell ended in another door. Galen carefully opened it and found himself in Prince Karim's closet, which was still a disaster area from when they had torn it apart looking for the Knife. The Narnian motioned for the others to follow him quietly, and he made his way out of the closet (they had been so close earlier, Galen thought with frustration) and into the spacious suite of rooms that used to belong to Calormen's fourth prince. Keeping an arrow on the string, he peered around the corner. The prince's body was now lying on the bed, covered in a silken sheet and two soldiers stood outside the door. Galen drew the fletching to his ear and let the arrow fly. It struck the soldier on the right and he fell with barely a cry. The other turned around, drawing his scimitar, and charged into the room. Galen did not hesitate to let fly another, and the Calormene dropped to the richly patterned rug, ruining it for the second time that evening.

"Here they come! Move!" Sir Ferian ordered from the back of the room, indicating the Calormenes had found their way into Karim's hideaway.

Galen and the other Archenlanders needed no further prompting. They ran quickly back the way they had entered the palace, ceasing not until they stood in the moonlight outside the west entrance.

"Where are the stables?" Lyra asked Emeth.

"Just around that corner," he pointed to the west.

"Good. Follow me," she instructed, looking towards Galen. The Archenlander silently traversed the distance between the palace wall and the stable wall, and in a short space of time, the entire party stood behind her.

"Drenan, Marin, Ewan, Reinald, and Ferian, go ahead of us and get the horses ready. We will follow promptly," Ayden ordered. The knights nodded, then disappeared into the shadows of the vineyards behind them.

Ayden and Glyn ducked into the stable, while the others took up concealed positions. They reappeared in a short while leading two Calormene horses.

"Torban, would you kindly arrange for a distraction?" said Ayden, and Torban grinned. He ducked into the stable and in a moment the horses began to stampede out. After they were gone, Torban tossed a torch into the hay, and flames began to quickly lick up the sides of the stable.

As the Archenlanders were busy watching Torban's mischief-making, Galen was watching the other side of the stable. Unbeknownst to him, a Calormene soldier, scimitar at the ready, turned the south corner. Just as the Calormene was about to swing, Galen spun around and parried the blow. The Calormene kicked Galen savagely, and the Narnian fell to the ground, with a silent prayer pleading Aslan to give him strength. The Calormene landed a second blow, but the third time Galen rolled out of the way and regained his footing. However, his satchel still lay in the dust, the mahogany corner of the Stone Knife box peeking out. Galen struck towards the Calormene, but the soldier parried and took the opportunity to give the box a mighty kick, propelling it into the air to Galen's horror. The Narnian disengaged his blade from the Calormene's and ran to catch it, diving under the soldier's scimitar. Just as the scimitar swung above Galen's head, the box fell to the ground and the latch fell open. Galen reached out, catching the ancient blade as it slid from its velvet resting place. The soldier swung his scimitar again, and Galen parried the blow. As he did so, a hand on the hilt of his sword and a hand on the hilt of the Stone Knife, the jewels on both pommels came alive with blue light. The light radiated between the Stone Knife's pommel and the pommel of Galen's sword, in the whisper of a second creating a pulse of light that radiated out, striking the Calormene and leaving him lying motionless in the dirt. As suddenly as the light pulse emerged it ceased.

Galen blinked in shock, then picked himself out of the dirt and carefully placed the Stone Knife back in its box and picked up his bow and satchel. He hurried to join the Archenlanders as they retreated to the vineyards leading the extra horses. Flames fully engulfed the stable now, and the Calormene soldiers were too preoccupied dealing with it to notice several figures retreating into the vineyards.

None too soon for Galen, they reached the grove of trees where the other knights, Aiolos, and the horses waited.

"Let's be off! For Archenland and the north!" Ayden exclaimed, reaching for his mount's reins, but at that moment an anguished cry rent the air and chilled their hearts.

"Glynan!"

Everyone turned to see Glynan fall to his knees. His brother caught him as he fell, cradling him in his arms.

"Funny, I hadn't noticed that," Glynan remarked, looking at the blood staining his shirt. Lyra hurried to his side and began to examine the injury.

"This is a scimitar wound, and a serious one. I don't think anything I can do will help," Lyra looked up in despair.

"Hold on, Glynan, you'll be alright," Glyn told his brother, hurriedly brushing away the stubborn tears that managed to fall.

Galen looked down a moment, his thoughts turning to the power he had witnessed the Stone Knife exert just a few minutes earlier. He thought back, years back, to the hours he had spent beneath the stars with his Centaur teacher, Sir Achaicus. He had been so long winded, yet his stories never failed to enrapture Galen, stories of the stars interwoven with the old Centaur's philosophy of the nature of the world. The Centaur had taught him many things about the Stone Knife, and one of these old lessons sprang to mind.

Galen looked back up and quickly knelt beside Glynan.

"Let me try something," he asked. The Narnian then drew his lion-pommeled sword and carefully opened the box with the Stone Knife. Once again, the jewels glowed when they were in such close proximity. Taking the hilt of the sword in one hand, the Stone Knife's hilt in the other, he held them on top of each other and above the wounded Archen Knight. Closing his eyes, Galen prayed aloud, his voice soft, yet as strong as steel.

_"Aslan, please help him. As Thou lead us from the dungeons, help him now. As Thy power destroyed my assailant, use Thy power to heal Thy servant, our friend. I ask in Thy Mighty Name, and in the Name of Thy Father, the Emperor-Over-the-Sea."_

As the Narnian spoke, the jewels of the Stone Knife and the Lion-Sword glowed intensely blue. A pulse of light yet again radiated out from between them, focusing on Glynan. A brief few seconds later the light dissipated, and the knight drew a deep, unlabored breath. Galen blinked a moment, and let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. Each person looked on in silence, wondering at what had transpired.

"Brother?" Glyn spoke softly.

"What just happened? The pain...it's gone," Glynan answered, sounding confused.

Lyra moved the cloth she had been pressing to the wound away, only to find no wound existed.

Relieved smiles and laughter filled the grove.

"Aslan be praised!" Glyn beamed with joy.

"Well, friends, mount up!" Ayden declared triumphantly. "For Archenland and the North!"

* * *

_Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! I would be even more delighted if you would leave a review on the way out! :)_

_Up Next: For Archenland and the North, in which the sea begins to beckon._


	23. Chapter 22: For Archenland and the North

_Author's note: I am very sorry for the delay, dear readers. Summer ends in a week and this is only the second update since it began. At any rate, the LSAT is well behind me, the law school applications coming along, so a last weekend before summer ends seemed the ideal time to knock out a chapter. I hope you enjoy it, and I would love to hear your feedback!_

* * *

Chapter the Twenty-Second: For Archenland and the North

_11 Mayblossom 2076, Somewhere in the Calormene Desert_

Sand swirled beneath the pounding hooves as the fiery sun glared down unyieldingly. The Narnian tried to avert his eyes, but no matter where he looked the brightness overwhelmed him, seeming to even hang in the air with an oppressive shimmer. The forked peak of Mount Pire rose from the horizon, purple against the azure sky.

The north-bound party had ridden all night from the Valley of the Three Lakes, making haste towards home. At dawn the group had reached the outskirts of Calormen, where they rested at the crest of the last hill before the desert sand began. As they paused and the northerners' new companions looked their last on the land they had once called home, sharp-eyed Sir Ferian had seen the dust flurries kicked up by five horses at a hard gallop on the road below. Five of Prince Karim's officers had followed them, hindered by the time required to retrieve the scattered horses, but not hindered enough to prevent the imminent threat they had come to pose. The flash of dawn-light off spiked helmets had chilled the hearts of the northerners' Calormene companions, ever fearful of finding their new freedom taken from them.

"They have come to take us back," Niusha had stated, dread evident in her voice.

"Nay, my lady," Sir Marin had answered grimly, his hand on his sword hilt, "they have come to avenge their prince."

"I am afraid we shall have to disappoint them," Sir Drenan had grinned as he fitted an arrow to his bowstring. Ewan and Galen had similarly seized their bows and set nock to string. The Calormene soldiers had come nearer, urging their horses faster as they foolishly pursued death in payment for death. As they had charged the base of the hill, all three archers had drawn the grey-fletched shafts to their ears, corrected their aim, and let the deadly points fly. Three horses had suddenly become riderless, and the two that had been left quickly joined their fellows at the sharp end of an Archen arrow. Archenland and the north lay ahead, and the party had wasted no time in turning to face Mount Pire's peak.

Galen thought with a wry expression that he had been so very excited to finally leave Calormen, but that exhilaration turned dull with the blindingly golden expanse of sand that now spread all around him.

As the sun began to finally move towards the western horizon, promising relief in a few hours from the glaring heat, the inviting sight of palm trees rose from the desert.

"We have done well, my friends. Let us rest for the time being," Ayden declared as the horses finally came to a wearied stop and began to drink deeply from the spring beneath the palms.

"How are you faring, my friend?" Galen asked after his fellow Narnian had quenched his thirst.

"I shall be glad to be out of this sand," Aiolos replied wearily, and Galen nodded, sitting on a rock beside the spring.

"Forgive me for causing you such hardship," the young knight looked up at the Horse contritely. Aiolos smiled.

"Galen, I chose to join you, and it is my honor to continue to do so."

"Thank you." Galen said simply, but earnestly. He looked out towards the east, where silver Aravir shone brightly in the dusky lavender sky, then stood and joined the others.

Most of the Archen knights clustered beneath a large palm tree, partaking of the simple fare they had with them. Lyra sat beneath another tree nearby, tending to Niusha's injuries. The girl who was once a servant rested her head on her folded arms, which leaned against the rock in front of her, and bit her lip to keep silent as the Archenlander cleaned and bandaged the stripes left by the vizier's lash. Emeth sat a little ways off from the rest, his countenance reflecting a sad musing. The Calormene looked off towards the east and the ever-purpling sky. As he ate, Galen noticed Emeth's melancholy and joined the Calormene, sitting on the sand beside him as soon as he was finished.

"I always love to watch the dusk," Galen remarked. "See, Aravir's sisters begin to join her, now, in the dance they have stepped since time began," the Narnian smiled, looking off towards the east where other stars indeed sparkled beside the Lady of Evening.

"The last time I watched the dusk was many years ago. I did not realize how much I had missed it," Emeth replied softly.

"You seem troubled, friend," Galen turned towards him.

"I cannot bear to see Niusha hurt," Emeth answered, wrapping his arms around himself. "When I think of what she must have endured in that dungeon I can hardly breathe," the once-Calormene shuddered and turned his eyes back toward the eastern sky.

"There was not a one of us whose heart did not grow cold as we understood what had befallen the lady. Worry not, though. With Lyra to help her, all will be well."

"I wanted to stay with Niusha and help her, but I think I must have gotten in the way because the Princess shooed me away with orders to go eat something."

The Narnian chuckled.

"The gods have blessed you, giving you as home a land where freedom is held a virtue, not a topic to be scorned," Emeth spoke in a more serious tone. "I have been a soldier in the Tisroc's (may he live forever) army since I was old enough to hold a scimitar. Such is required of every tarkaan's lesser sons, and even though I did not want to fight, I had no choice. You and others of your land (as I have seen), on the other hand, fight because it is your choice, because you wish to serve the nation you love and wish to preserve the freedom that enables you to do so. You even refer to Niusha by the title '"lady" regardless that she is by rank a servant. I have long dreamt of a land so free, but cannot help but feel that now, with Calormen behind me, I am without a home," the Calormene continued quietly. As Galen listened, he looked out towards the ever-starrier sky, looking down as Emeth finished.

"My land is not as free as you imagine," Galen responded after a moment's pause. "I am not of Archenland but of Narnia. Yes, my land considers freedom a virtue, but it is a virtue beyond her grasp as she suffers at the point of Telmar's sword. I only wish I could fight for Narnia's freedom."

"Then we are both without homes," Emeth observed.

"Perhaps. But Archenland has been good to me. It may not be the home that calls my heart, but freedom does flourish there." Galen paused a moment. "If I may ask, what have you dreamt of doing with freedom?"

Emeth smiled a little. "I have dreamt of peace, of laying down my scimitar and never taking it up again. I have dreamt of making a home for myself, where I could be my own person and rank would not matter. I want to choose what to do with my life, and I want to choose the person with whom I share it regardless of their family or mine."

"Then you will indeed find that for which you wish, friend," Galen smiled. "In Archenland those goals are not lofty."

As they spoke, the moon began to rise, the purple haze of dusk giving way to the black velvet curtain of night with its sprinkling of diamonds.

Laughter echoed through the night air, and Galen looked behind them. Beneath several of the palm trees the rest of the knights, as well as Lyra and Niusha, were resting and talking cheerfully.

Galen and Emeth joined them as their laughter subsided.

"There you are! You missed the amusing tale Sir Torban was just telling us," Ayden greeted.

"A pity, indeed," Galen replied with a smile. "How are you faring, my lady?" Galen asked Niusha.

The Calormene girl looked up and smiled. "Much better, sir, thank you."

"I am glad to hear that."

Just as Galen finished speaking, Lyra suddenly gasped. All heads turned inquiringly.

"How could I have forgotten!" The princess exclaimed. "Brother, tell me Juliana is still at Anvard."

"I would think so, sister. When we left, she was being escorted to," Ayden paused, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, "less comfortable quarters."

"So you discovered her treachery?" Lyra asked with urgency.

"It was really Galen who found her out," Ayden grinned, and the rest of the knights could not help laughing. Lyra smiled quizzically.

"We were all just minding our business, trying to organize an appropriate rescue party," Sir Ewan began, "when Galen, face as dark as a thundercloud, drags Lady Juliana into the Great Hall by the scruff of the neck, that monster boot dagger of his behind her ear, and dumps her on the floor in front of the king and queen."

Laughter once again filled the little oasis.

"Oh, I wish I could have seen it!" Lyra gasped with laughter. "Galen, how did you know?"

The Narnian, for his part, had turned beet red. "Juliana was entirely too smug for her own good. Not to mention that wearing an emerald engraved with Prince Karim's standard was not the best of ideas," Galen at last smiled.

"She never was very bright when it came to anything beyond manipulation," Lyra scoffed. "I am so glad she was not allowed the opportunity to escape."

"When we return to Anvard, I think she would prefer her current quarters, where Galen and his boot dagger are separated from her by sturdy iron bars," Drenan remarked with a smile, and again the party laughed with mirth.

By this time the moon had risen to cast a silver glow over the sand, and Sir Ferian glanced at Ayden, who promptly understood the knight's meaning.

"Friends, we need to depart within the half-hour," the Archen prince announced. "We had best take advantage of the cool evening to make headway against this desert. However, we left in such haste that I have sorely neglected my courtesy. Niusha, Emeth, we welcome you into our company," Ayden turned to the no-longer-Calormenes and bowed. "I thank you for your service to my sister. You will be most welcome in the Kingdom of Archenland."

One by one the Archen prince introduced the knights that accompanied them, each bowing in turn and biding their new friends a hearty welcome. Niusha and Emeth both were greatly surprised that anyone, much less the heir to Archenland's throne, would deign to show them any courtesy, a courtesy which they shyly returned.

That accomplished, the company mounted their horses and began the journey anew.

* * *

_12 Mayblossom 2076_

The Archen-bound party traveled slower in the cool starry night, letting the wearied horses set a comfortable pace. Although none were untouched by fatigue, with each the hour the mountains seemed to grow closer and sustained the group in a cheerful spirits. The morning dawned bright, and with the sun the human travelers dismounted and began to walk in order to spare the horses. In this manner they traveled without ceasing, and as such the morning passed slowly for Galen. However, just after midday, the sand began to slope upwards and taper off into grass. The group crested the now-green hill and looked down upon the valley below to see the broad ribbon of the Winding Arrow River snaking towards the sea beside Archenland's southern forest.

"If I may ask, may I have a moment?" Emeth requested of Ayden with slight timidity. The Archen prince nodded in return.

The Calormene turned back towards the desert sand, walking until his boots displaced the soft drifts. Emeth then drew his scimitar and held the curved blade towards the ground. Pausing the barest moment to let his gaze linger on the bright goldenness of the south, he drove the scimitar into the sand until it stuck fast. He unfastened the scabbard from his belt and dropped it beside the scimitar. Turning towards the north, Emeth smiled slightly, standing a little taller, and returned up the hill, turning his back to the land he had once called home, never to look back to it again.

"Welcome to Archenland," Ayden declared with calm gravity, extending his hand to him, who was Calormene no longer.

The party turned toward the river below them. With an elated whinny, Aiolos sprang forward, galloping towards the water and drawing laughter from his human companions before they turned to follow suit.

The Archenlanders, Narnians, and former-Calormenes forded the Winding Arrow jubilantly, stopping on the Archen side to rest and let the horses drink.

"Oh, it is good to be home!" Lyra exclaimed, turning towards forest and sighing contentedly.

"Aye, sister," Ayden smiled in agreement, his hand resting on her shoulder.

As Emeth let the horse he and Niusha rode drink from the river, he looked towards the girl who was once a servant. She sat on the riverbank looking towards the Archen forests and mountains beyond them with elation.

"Oh, Emeth, I had never seen these forests as I see them now. I can hardly believe that I-we-are free," she turned towards him with shining eyes.

"I feel the same way. I can hardly fathom that we need not worry who sees us, that I no longer have to worry that the senseless fancies of a prince will send me to my death or you to the dungeons."

A moment passed in silence, with both former Calormenes absorbing the landscape of their new home. Emeth looked down momentarily before turning to the girl beside him.

"Niusha, may I ask you something?"

"Of course," she smiled in return.

"The first time I met you, I awoke to find you tending my wounds from a battle with the western outlaws. The moment you looked at me, with such a reassuring smile, my heart belonged to you. I cannot imagine a moment without you." Emeth paused a moment, looking down. "I have nothing of worth, and am no one of worth. I cannot promise you the moon and stars as others would. Indeed, I cannot promise anything save that I love you, and that I will unfailingly stand beside you. If you will permit me, I would humbly beg the honor of becoming your husband," Emeth spoke softly, a tremor in his voice as he held out his hand.

Tears shone in Niusha's eyes as he spoke, and when he had finished she looked up at him and took the hand he offered.

"I have never wanted the moon, my love," she smiled, embracing him. "I have only ever wanted to be with you."

Emeth smiled for the first time since he had left Calormen, and held Niusha close. She tensed as he returned her embrace, her painful reminders of Calormen still not fully healed.

"I'm so sorry I could not protect you, Niusha," Emeth's voice wavered.

"But you did," she looked back at him and smiled. "You have always been by my side, and these past few days have been no different. You have helped me, cared for me, and, most importantly, you came with me. These stripes are a paltry price to pay to for freedom," Niusha spoke earnestly. She paused and chuckled as she continued, "Besides, Princess Lyra told me what you were going to do. I am very glad that she kept you from charging the dungeon alone."

Emeth ducked his head and smiled sheepishly.

"Now what is going on here, might I ask?" Ewan asked with a good-natured smile, passing them as he led his horse from the water.

"We're to be married," Niusha smiled happily in response.

"Well, congratulations and Aslan's blessings!" Ewan exclaimed. Not one to keep secrets, the Archenlander called the rest of their companions over and the resulting hearty chorus of congratulations practically swamped the new Archenlanders.

Soon enough, though, Sir Ferian was ready to leave.

"Come, friends," the knight-tracker ordered surely, "let us camp within the forest tonight and make our way to Anvard on the morrow. If our good bowmen will oblige us," he nodded towards Galen, Ewan, and Drenan, "perhaps we might dine on something other than travel rations tonight."

The party moved off in response, Sir Ferian leading the way into the green Archen forests. While the rest of the party prepared a fine campsite in a clearing several miles within the borders of the Archen forest, Galen and his fellow archers roamed the forest. The Narnian thought he felt more at home than he had the whole time he had been in Archenland as he softly threaded his way through the trees, his arrow at the ready. The space of focused solitude gave Galen time to relax after the harried hours of the past few days. The fresh smell of the pine forest provided relief from the desert heat that the Narnian welcomed, and so contented he found himself as he was a-hunting that afternoon that he was almost loath to return to the camp. However, by the time the rosy hues of sunset streaked the sky, Galen rejoined his fellow bowmen and returned to camp with dinner in hand.

As the stars began to sparkle through the tree tops, the Archenlanders and their Narnian companions settled contentedly around a pleasant campfire, conversing cheerily as they devoured the turkey and brace of pheasants the sharp-eyed archers had managed to procure before the light bid farewell. Evergreen trees surrounded the small opening in the forest, filling the air with a fresh, piney smell and leaving a carpet of soft pine needles upon which Archen boots tread. A swift stream murmured happily as its cold waters charged across the rocks a little ways northeast of the clearing. Several fallen logs served as convenient seats, and as the moon the rose, the little glade filled with laughter as the friends traded stories and jests.

"Oh, you did not!" Sir Glyn protested his brother's tale.

"I did so, brother!" Glynan's eyes twinkled with mirth. "Ewan, Torban, don't you believe me?"

Ewan and Torban glanced at each other and then suppressed chuckles.

"No comment," said Torban.

"Oh, come on! Ewan?"

"What? Believe that you once charmed a mermaid? Nay, I think I'll not touch that one," the knight replied with a grin as the rest of the group laughed heartily.

"Alright, Glynan, what did she look like?" Reinald asked jovially.

"Well, she was beautiful, with long, dark hair and eyes as blue as the sea in which she swam."

"And she had a tail?" Marin raised an eyebrow.

"Of course! A great, big dolphin's tail covered in shimmering green scales. I found her one day as I walked on the beach near Ramstowne."

"Sure," Drenan replied. "And I found Queen Susan's Horn as I rode near Stormness Mountain!"

Laughter filled the glade again.

"Enough of your tall tales, Glynan! How about a tune?" Torban declared, striking a cheerful chord on the lute he held.

"Oh, yes, please!" Lyra answered. "The last week has felt like an age, and it would do me a great deal of good deal to hear a hearty Archen song again!"

"If you would not mind, Sir Torban, I would love to join you," said Galen, his flute in hand. The Narnian sat as near the campfire as any of the others, but leaned against Aiolos' back instead of a log. The Horse, for his part, had laid down in the first comfortable spot he had seen and was long asleep.

"Of course, my friend! Do you know the Ballad of Lord Kilpatrick?"

"I'll follow along," Galen smiled. The lighthearted strains of of Torban's lute made a fitting companion to the cheery flames flickering at the clearing's center. Looking up to the stars, Galen smiled, listening to the Archen tune for a moment, then he picked up the music's thread and followed it with the free-spirited cascades of his Narnian flute. Settling into the song's comfortable beat, Torban began to sing and in a moment his fellow Archenlanders' voices happily joined him.

_"My good old Lord Kilpatrick_

_Was as dreary as you please._

_He did'na fancy sunshine,_

_So dour and dry was he._

_._

_Ho, there! Hi, there!_

_Yon scalawags, get thee gone!_

_._

_I once knew a little lad_

_Who tried to make him laugh._

_Instead he got a rock or two_

_And never came he back!_

_._

_Ho, there! Hi, there!_

_Yon scalawags, get thee gone!"**_

* * *

The joyous combination of voices, lute, and flute filled the camp long into the evening as the northerners rejoiced at returning home, and the new Archenlanders rejoiced in finding one. Finally, Torban's fingers protested and the fire began to dwindle, so each bade his fellows a good night.

"We'll need to set a guard," Sir Ferian, a seasoned knight and experienced woodsman above all else, practically cautioned.

"I'll take the first watch," Galen volunteered, standing and picking up his bow. Ferian nodded in return before following his companions' example and seeking a few hours' rest.

The Narnian looked around the clearing for a moment, then found a suitable tree and climbed to a spot high enough in its branches that he could survey the entire campsite and its surroundings. Galen leaned against the tree trunk and rested his bow across his legs. The campfire's coals glowed a warm orange, casting long, dark shadows across the forest floor. Above him, the stars shimmered brightly, all the familiar constellations dancing as they had since time began. He looked towards Spearhead, who ever pointed the way home. A pang of homesickness struck him, but the settled puzzlement over the last week's events replaced it swiftly. The power channeled by the Stone Knife was in some respects frightening, but in more ways it was a familiar thing, awaking the memories of Sir Achaicus' lessons. Beneath these same stars, Galen remembered, the old centaur had endeavored to teach him the lessons that he said they taught: lessons about the world, of the nature of the fabric of Deep Magic that held it together.

As the Narnian thought, he nonetheless kept alert, and detected a figure stand in the shadows of the trees, moving towards the one in which he sat. The figure stealthily began to climb his tree, but Galen did not make a move against it.

"Good evening, my lady," Galen calmly greeted as the person reached him.

"I suppose I could not expect to surprise you twice," Lyra chuckled and looked up towards the stars.

"A very sorry watchman I would be indeed if you could," Galen smiled in response, still scanning the ground below.

For a moment, the wind blew through the boughs around them, wafting the scent of pine through the cool air. Lyra looked up towards the moon and let the wind toss her hair.

"I am glad to be home," she sighed contentedly.

"We are all glad of that as well."

"Thank you," Lyra smiled, "for coming for me."

"Of course," Galen smiled in return.

"Galen, I find myself puzzling over what happened after we escaped. Glynan's wound-it was very serious," Lyra looked down a moment. "If you had not done what you did, he would have died. What I wonder is how. What power did you unleash?"

"I did nothing. Aslan, in His power, healed Glynan."

"But the Stone Knife and your sword were doubtless the conduits," the Archenlander replied. "How did you know?"

"Earlier, as we left the manor house, a soldier ambushed me behind the barn. As we fought, the Stone Knife fell out of its case, and as I caught it I remember thinking a little, fleeting thought calling to Aslan for help. At that moment, as I held both my sword and the Stone Knife, the same blue light radiated from the Stone Knife and struck my opponent to the ground. At first I did not know what to think, but as we stood in the trees and discovered one of our number wounded, I began to remember, and these memories whispered in the back of my mind like the spring air that rustles the leaves. When I was growing up in Narnia, my teacher and mentor was a Centaur, Sir Achaicus. He was brother to my grandfather's mentor, who died in the battle for Cair Paravel and was also a knight of the Lion's Redemption. After my father died, three years ago now, and I took on the duty of guarding the Stone Knife, Sir Achaicus began to teach me what he knew of the Stone Knife." Galen paused, looking up at the stars with a wistful smile. "He could look at the stars for hours on end, marking their steps in the heavens with practiced ease and wide-eyed curiosity. So many years studying Aslan's messengers taught him a great deal. I remember many a night we sat on the top of a hill to stargaze, and as he traced the star-paths he would tell me of the Deep Magic that links each part of the world together. The Stone Knife, Sir Achaicus thought, was part of that Deep Magic. He did not think, as many others did, that the Stone Knife was a mere relic of the past, stagnant and cold. He saw it for what it is: deeply connected to Aslan, not only a representation of His love and power but an inextricable part of them woven into the fabric of the world."

"He taught you to bring the Stone Knife's power to light?"

"No," the Narnian replied. "I have never seen the Stone Knife behave as it has since I undertook this journey. However, one thing my father always taught me more than anything else was that the Stone Knife is not something powerful in and of itself, and it is never ever something to be worshipped. I believe the events of the past several days are proof of that. The power we see in the Stone Knife comes from Aslan. He gave me the sword that compliments the Stone Knife and is connected to it somehow, and it was He I asked to save Glynan's life. Sir Achaicus's lessons gave me that thought, the idea to use what Aslan had put in my hand, and above all, ask Him. The day we confuse the Stone Knife with Aslan will be the day we lose everything we are," Galen finished, eyes flashing.

"I understand now why the Stone Knife gallery at Anvard troubled you so," Lyra remarked quietly. "I am hesitant to speak this thought, but I wonder now, after all I have seen and all you have told me, if Anvard is truly the appropriate place for the Stone Knife to reside."

Galen looked down a moment, then glanced upwards as the wind rustled the pine needles once again.

"Aye, that very question has been plaguing my mind for some time now. When we get to Anvard, the Stone Knife will not leave my side again, on that I am certain. I do not know where Aslan intends the Stone Knife to reside, but I cannot help but feel drawn eastward, as though Aravir calls me towards Aslan's Country," Galen looked up to where the Lady of Morning brushed the tree tops far in the distance and smiled surely. "The adventure He will give me lies seaward."

* * *

Author's note: thank you so much for reading! I would love to hear what you think!

** Since I first posted this chapter, I have completed the little Archen ballad. It is published as a separate story under my profile, and if you want to have a look at it, I hope you enjoy it and would love to know what you think.

_Up next: Justice, in which Archenland's legal system is explored._


	24. Chapter 23: Justice Begun

Author's note: My apologies, dear readers. I had not meant for the next chapter to take a semester, but here we are. I am afraid the soon-to-be law student in me went a little overboard on Juliana's trial. When it hit the 10,000 word mark and kept going, it was just a little bit of a hint to that effect. Therefore, I have broken it into two more manageable sections, of which you get this one today. I have taken several liberties with the trial, which are explained (hopefully to your satisfaction) in the note at the beginning of the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it. I sure did. Happy reading, and Happy New Years!

Disclaimer: Narnia is not mine, The End. The random and really, really obscure Star Trek quotes (and name reference) aren't really mine either (yes, I am a tried and true Trekkie. Happy hunting, Fierce! ;D).

Chapter the Twenty-third: Justice Begun

_13 Mayblossom 2076, Approximately fifteen miles outside of Anvard._

By sunset of the next day, the party drew near Anvard after spending the day traveling in the lush green woods.

"Do you think we'll reach Anvard tonight, Sir Ferian?" Glynan inquired as the sun began to dip towards the western horizon.

"We are close, but nay, I do not think we should press on. We are not in need of haste, and I daresay the night's rest would do the horses good."

"We are near Barnesdale, are we not?" Lyra asked.

"I believe so, my lady," the knight replied.

"Then let's make camp nearby. There is a visit I would like to make."

"By all means."

By this time, the horses hooves rang against the rocky ridge, and presently the travelers could see the little village spread out in the valley below. One by one, each made his way down the ridge trail. Within a few minutes hooves pounded the worn flagstones of the village square, coming to a stop around the central well. As the group dismounted and began to water the horses, curious townspeople began to stare at the large party of knights, cloaks covered in the dust of many a day's travel. Presently, Lyra handed her horse's reins to her brother, and began to walk towards the little home beside the blacksmith's workshop. Yellow daffodils waved in the breeze along with the curtains at the windows as golden shafts of late afternoon sunlight played upon the landscape. Suddenly, the door opened and a little figure ran out.

"Princess Lyra! Princess Lyra!"

"Brennan! How are you?" Lyra smiled, kneeling in the dirt and hugging the little Archen boy.

"Oh, I feel much better now," he answered happily, but his brow furrowed momentarily. "I heard Mrs. Randal from down the road telling mama that a bad man took you away."

Lyra smiled. "Don't worry, Brennan. He'll not be coming back."

"Did you give them a good clobbering?" Brennan asked excitedly.

"Aye," Lyra laughed, "And a one they'll not soon forget!"

"Good!" The little boy smiled. As they were speaking, Galen quietly approached, and now knelt on the ground next to Lyra.

"How fare you, my young friend?" Galen smiled broadly.

"Sir Galen!" Brennan exclaimed, quickly hugging the Narnian. "Did you give those Calormenes a good dusting too?"

"That we did, by Aslan's grace," Galen laughed.

Before the energetic young boy could ask any more questions, his parents came from the house to join them.

"Princess Lyra, Sir Galen, it is good to see you both! I am glad that all is well," Tira greeted the two, smiling.

"It is wonderful to see you as well!" Lyra answered as she and Galen stood.

"We are on our way back to Anvard and stopped to water the horses. How have you been?" The Narnian greeted.

"Very well, good sir," Tira answered with a smile.

"We have heard many things over the past few days. I thank the Lion that you are returned to us, your highness," Jonas spoke, and Lyra nodded her thanks.

"Perhaps you would share our meal this evening," Tira invited.

"Oh, we would not intrude for all the world," Lyra demurred.

"It is no intrusion, your highness," Tira countered with a smile. "I would not hear of sending you and your companions out into the cold."

"Then we insist on providing the meat," Galen interjected cheerfully, shifting his bow to his left hand and briefly bowing a farewell before retreating to the well. There he gathered the other bowmen and they quickly headed for the woods beyond the village, fitting arrows to the bowstrings as they went.

"Ready, sister?" Ayden approached Lyra and the family as they conversed.

"I'll be staying for a little while, Ayden. Go on ahead and make camp. I'll be back in a little while."

"Alright," the Archen prince answered, "We'll be up on the ridge. I-"

"Your highnesses! Knights of Archenland! We bid you welcome to Barnesdale!" A loud voice interrupted. Lyra and Ayden (as well as their companions) turned around with some measure of annoyance to see the voice's owner. A few paces in front of the well, where the knights were almost finished preparing the horses, a portly man with greying hair stood. He wore a dark blue broadcloth jacket and cloak to match, both accented with silver clasps.

"Thank you, good sir," Ayden answered, stepping forward. "With whom have we the pleasure of speaking?"

"Forgive me, your highness, for not introducing myself sooner. I am Gillis, mayor of Barnesdale, and I would like to welcome your highnesses and your noble companions to our humble village."

"My companions and I are grateful, thank you," Lyra answered politely.

"If your highnesses would come with me to the town hall, we will provide a much more fitting welcome and meal."

"That will not be necessary, Mayor Gillis, although we thank you for the kind offer," Ayden quickly replied.

"Oh, but your highness-"

"Mayor Gillis," Lyra interrupted the insistent man.

"Yes, your highness?"

"That will not be necessary," she reiterated in measured tones, her quiet smile belying the steel behind her blue eyes.

"Yes, your highness," the mayor acquiesced reluctantly. "If your highnesses need anything at all, we are at your disposal," he finished before withdrawing.

After the mayor had walked away, the crowd of villagers who clustered by their doors and murmured to each other began to disperse.

"Ferian," Ayden addressed the knight, "Set up camp on the ridge, wherever you think best. Lyra and I will be along by nightfall. I believe Ewan, Drenan, and Galen went off a-hunting, so they should be back soon as well."

"Of course, my lord," Ferian bowed slightly and within a few minutes' time the knights remounted and rode for ridge.

With the bustle of knights and horses gone, the town was once again quiet as the late-afternoon sun slowly began to duck behind the mountains.

"Please, your highnesses, won't you come in?" Tira motioned hospitably towards the door.

The prince and princess followed the family inside after securing the horses, where Tira quickly bade them sit.

"Please, warm yourselves by the fire," she said. "Perhaps you would care for a cup of tea?"

"Thank you, my lady," Ayden answered, drawing a chair close to the fire. "That would be wonderful."

"Yes, thank you," Lyra smiled. "Perhaps today's journey was longer than I thought," she looked towards her brother wearily. "I little realized how cold it was until a moment ago."

Ayden had almost fallen asleep over his tea mug, and Lyra was occupying Brennan with a game when a soft knock sounded at the door. Jonas went to answer, and found Galen standing on the steps holding his bow and a pair of fair sized rabbits.

"If you have a place where you would prefer me to clean them, I'll have the meat ready for cooking in a trice!" The Narnian greeted cheerfully.

"Why, Sir Galen! How very nice. Around back there is a board and water pump, if that will do."

"It will do very well, thank you."

Galen hurried around the house and in a few minutes' time returned with the meat.

"I hope these are satisfactory, my lady," said Galen as he handed Tira the rabbits. "It was the best I could find so close to dusk."

"It's perfect, thank you," the Archenlander smiled. "Please make yourself comfortable," she invited.

Galen took a seat next to the fire, setting his bow and quiver beside him, and Brennan promptly bounced up from the game he was playing with Lyra.

"Sir Galen! What did you find in the woods?"

"All the makings of rabbit stew, I expect," the Narnian replied with a smile.

"Mmm," the little boy's eyes lit up. "Would you like to come play with us?" he asked.

"Sure," Galen replied, and found the next half-hour passed swiftly. Presently, Tira bade them all sit at the table on one side of the room, serving out a large pot of what proved to be a very tasty rabbit stew and hearty slices of crusty bread.

"I'm sure you are used to much finer things, but I hope you all enjoy the meal."

"Nonsense, my lady, this is wonderful! It is our honor to share a meal with you and your family, and you have our thanks," Ayden replied, and the meal continued cheerfully.

Just as the last bits of bread and stew disappeared, an insistent knock sounded at the door.

Tira quickly went to answer. The visitor's harsh tone carried to the ears of those still sitting at the table.

"You have sorely disgraced this town!" The voice bellowed angrily.

"I…" they heard Tira try to interject.

"You would have the crown prince of Archenland and his company share a meal in your lowly home, depriving our town of the opportunities such an important and rare visit entails! What have you to say for yourself?" The voice became angrier as it spoke each word. As it spoke, the countenances of the people of whom it spoke darkened and they quickly stood and hurried to the hallway.

"That is a very good question, Mayor Gillis, and you had best pray you have a very good answer to it," Ayden glowered at the plump man, his tone so heavy with steely anger that it might have silenced the winds of Mount Pire.

"Your highness, I…" the surprised man stammered, his eyes wide at the foreboding looks upon his monarch's faces.

"Be silent!" Lyra practically growled. "I little wish to hear your answer. Nothing could warrant so ill-tempered an outburst and craven insults against those who are our friends."

"I…" Mayor Gillis continued to stammer.

"I would speak with you alone," Ayden cut him off again, pulling the now-frightened mayor aside as he shut the door behind him.

"Explain."

"Your highness, I apologize for the intrusion, I…"

"I do not want your apology, I want your explanation, good mayor," the Archen prince interrupted pointedly as the two walked away from the home.

"Of course," the man said as he swallowed the words he had intended to say. "I must, you understand, look out for the best interests of this village, and I wanted the opportunity to show your highnesses Barnesdale's worth and promise."

"And perhaps avail yourself of the opportunity to suggest a royal improvement project or the like?" Ayden interjected wryly, leaning against the side of the well. The cowed mayor nodded silently.

"Yet, what good do crass insults and ill-temperament do your town and its citizens? Such conduct is unworthy of your office, friend."

"I apologize, your highness," the mayor looked down.

"It is not to ourselves that you owe contrition," Ayden replied. "What is more, good mayor, you have at least succeeded in attracting our attention to this town," he continued. "From this point onward, the Royal Elections Supervisory Council will send representatives every year to oversee the procedures of your office and the actions taken under its authority. I advise you to continue in your duties with caution. Good evening."

The Archen prince promptly walked back towards the little house, leaving a very dumfounded mayor in his wake.

"Lyra, we should probably best rejoin our companions momentarily,"Ayden said upon reentering the house.

"Agreed," Lyra concurred and Galen nodded his assent as well.

"Thank you very much for the meal," said the Narnian.

"It was wonderful to see you again, my friends," Lyra smiled as she gave Brennan a farewell hug.

"Here, I will fetch your cloaks for you," Jonas hurried to the hall closet as they began to depart. Ayden had brought the horses from behind the house, and Aiolos stood beside them.

"Aslan be with you, friends," Galen bowed.

"And with you also," said Tira.

"Aiolos!" A little voice cut through the air, and Brennan ran out of the house and towards the Narnian Horse. "I wanted to tell you goodbye too! And I've brought you a piece of sugar!"

"Thank you, my little friend," Aiolos whinnied in a sort of horsy chuckle, bending down to nudge the Archen boy with his long head. "Fare thee well."

After each had given their farewells, the company of friends departed the little home, leaving Barnesdale behind as they climbed the ridge that overlooked it. A campfire glimmered in the distance, and after a little while the group reached the top just as the moon began to climb her path from the Eastern Sea. The air was crisp and clear, and from the ridge's summit Galen could see the mountains rising from the hills to the north, their somber grey peaks slicing the star-filled sky. The rest of the Archen knights were gathered around the fire and engaged in singing a jaunty tune of some kind.

"Halt and declare yourself!" A commanding voice spoke as they guided the horses over the last few rocks.

"Calm down, Marin, it is merely us," Lyra calmly replied. The Archen knight came from behind the tree and returned the sword he had drawn to its scabbard.

"Thank you for that, my lady. You nearly scared me out of ten years' growth, popping out of nowhere like that," Sir Marin replied, only to be met with Lyra's laughter and her companions' chuckles.

The late-comers settled in with the rest around the campfire, joining in another round of their tune. A little while passed, and Ferian finally suggested that everyone might get some sleep.

"Of course, Sir Ferian, you are right," Ayden agreed.

"One thing, though, brother. You must tell me what on earth you said to the irritating mayor!"

* * *

_14 Mayblossom 2076_

The next morning passed quickly for Galen as the party covered familiar ground, and before the morning was out they could see the towers of Anvard above the trees. The blacksmith's hammer rang clearly through the early spring air, and soon as the horses' hooves sounded against the flagstones several shouts came from the courtyard.

"The knights have returned!"

"The Princess is with them!"

"Aslan be praised!"

The weary group dismounted, and no sooner had their boots hit the ground than the Archen king and queen rushed from the castle doorway to embrace their daughter.

"Lyra, thou art well?"

"Yes, mother, as are we all," the Archen princess smiled, glancing towards her brother.

"And what of the Calormene prince?" King Lorn asked tersely.

Lyra's countenance darkened and she drew a delicately crafted dagger from the belt at her waist, holding its length in her upturned palm.

"He is dead, and by my hand. Your gift drew from the craven prince his dying breath."

Her father put an assuring hand on her shoulder, looking to Ayden and the rest of the group.

"What of the Stone Knife, and of the good knights who accompanied you? How fare ye?"

"All is well, father. The particulars may wait a little while," Ayden smiled.

By this time, stablehands had taken the horses back to the stables, and the queen indicated they should seek well-deserved food and rest. By this time, the Archen monarchs had noticed the two Calormenes who stood with the returning Archenlanders.

"But who are these in your company?" Queen Layla asked.

"These individuals," Lyra motioned for Emeth and Niusha to approach, "aided me in our escape. This is Niusha, once a servant in the prince's house, and Emeth, once a soldier in the Tisroc's army."

The one-time Calormenes stepped forward and knelt before the king and queen.

"We would humbly ask permission to address your majesties," Emeth spoke.

"Granted, by all means," replied the queen.

"We would request asylum in Archenland," Emeth began.

"Calormen is no longer our home. We wish only to live in freedom and in peace," Niusha finished solemnly. Silence hung in the air for a moment as the Archen monarchs looked to their children.

Ayden inclined his head in assent, as did his sister. The king and queen turned back to the pair before them.

"Then rise and stand as friends. Archenland welcomes you," King Lorn spoke, a smile lighting his blue eyes. Niusha and Emeth stood, happiness evident on their faces. He motioned for a nearby servant to approach, and instructed him to see to it that the newest residents of Archenland were given appropriate quarters and necessaries.

After they had left, Lyra turned to her parents.

"Ayden told me you found Lady Juliana out as the traitoress she is," the princess's voice held a steely edge as she spoke.

"It was truly she, then?" Queen Layla asked with equal gravity.

"Aye. She lead me into the craven prince's trap. She, and no other."

"That removes any doubt that yet remained. I will see to it the proper judicial proceedings are begun at once," the king spoke. "Aslan be praised you all have returned well," he continued. "I eagerly anticipate the tale."

"But first you must go and rest and eat and clean up!" Layla insisted, shoeing Ayden and Lyra towards the castle.

As they spoke, Galen had slipped into the castle and found his way up to his room. As he settled back in, shaking the dust of travel from his cloak, he found himself pondering yet again the proper destination for the Knife. While he did not know exactly, he could not deny the pull the sea exerted upon him. It was as if it called him with a sweet and irresistible voice, called the Narnian towards the East and Aslan's Country.

* * *

The sound of the heavy wooden door opening awoke the green-clad girl from her half-conscious slumber. She heard a footfall upon the stair, and the maker of the sound came into view through the metal bars of her small, but clean, cell.

"I made you a promise, Juliana," Lyra's steel-girded voice spoke as she emerged from the stairway's shadows, her hand resting on her sword hilt. The Archen princess had shed her Calormene garb in favor of her familiar training clothes with the golden Archen gryphon stamped proudly upon the leather cuirass.

"So, you escaped," Juliana replied icily, standing.

Lyra chuckled wryly. "Indeed." The princess drew a knife from her belt, fingering the blade. "Do you see this dagger, my lady?" She asked the green-clad girl, an edge as hard as her dagger's coloring the princess's voice. "Three days ago it dripped with your Calormene co-conspirator's blood."

Juliana blanched, inadvertently taking a step backwards as Lyra took a step towards the bars that separated them. The princess turned the knife around in her hand and grasped it menacingly by the hilt.

"Please," the girl's eye's widened in fear.

"You are in a position to demand nothing, my lady, and there is precious little preventing me from driving this knife through your heart as well."

A moment passed, and Juliana took a sharp breath as Lyra laid a hand to the bars and raised the dagger, her eyes flashing in anger. The Archen princess paused and turned away as she returned the knife to its sheath.

"Know this— were this another time and place, this blade would have slain you as well. However, the sovereign laws of Archenland, the very laws which you have so grievously betrayed, protect you now. Think on this, and on the morrow be prepared to face those laws before the High Court."

* * *

The evening came, and dusk's purple hues found Galen standing on the northeast turret, staring off towards Aravir's shining light. A soft footstep sounded on the stair behind him, and he briefly glanced toward it before turning back to the sunset. Lyra, clad in a deep purple gown, leaned against the parapet next to him, looking towards the sky as the last rays of sunlight glanced off the golden circlet she wore.

"Art alright, my friend?" She lay a hand on the shoulder of the Narnian's velvet tunic.

"Aye, all is well," Galen quietly replied.

"And yet something troubles you yet."

The Narnian sighed. "I feel as though I am lacking something. Something I ought to know, but do not. The only way I could describe it is that I feel the sea, Aravir and the east, calling me to come, yet a hazy veil of clouds dims the horizon."

Lyra nodded understandingly. "And yet a dawn will come." She smiled reassuringly. "It always does."

Galen smiled. "Aye. Perhaps I leave too much to pondering," the Narnian stopped leaning against the wall and straightened. "If I was not mistaken, this evening's dinner is in my lady's honor," the young knight offered his arm with a teasing twinkle in his eye. "T'would be a pity if she missed it."

* * *

"To Princess Lyra!" the many voices in the hall declared, their upraised glasses in hand. Lyra nodded politely in acknowledgement. The entire court had assembled for the banquet, dressed in their finest evening attire to celebrate her return. Galen sat beside Lyra on one side, her brother on the other beside the king and queen. As they ate, they each found themselves besieged with questions from curious courtiers.

"How did you escape?" asked one.

"How did you get captured?" asked another.

"Was it really Prince Karim? He seemed so courteous," one girl remarked as Lyra and the knights in the party began to expound upon the particulars of the capture, rescue, and escape.

"I assure you, my lady," Lyra scoffed. "He was anything but courteous."

"Sir Galen, did you recover the Stone Knife?" asked Lord Trelain.

"Yes, I did, by Aslan's grace."

"I heard from some of the knights that it healed a gravely insured one of the rescue party."

"That is correct." A murmur went through the crowd.

"How amazing! I cannot wait to see it once it is returned to the gallery!"

"I do not intend to replace it in the gallery," Galen replied. Immediately the room quieted.

"What do you mean?" one of the parliament members gasped.

"The gallery is not a safe place for the Knife, as this past week's adventure has shown us. I will not put the Knife in such danger."

"Perhaps there is something that can be done to reinforce its security?"

"Surely you would reconsider!" the parliament member insisted.

"My lords, surely this is no meet time to discuss such things," the queen interjected. "Sir Galen, the prince and princess and our knights have only just returned. Let us not harry them with so many questions. Good minstrel, honor us with tune!"

As the jaunty lute and shimmering lyre quieted the voices at the table, Galen glanced toward Lyra.

"I will never return it to the gallery," he whispered, a hard determination in his eyes.

"As well should you not," his friend replied.

The dinner progressed relatively uneventfully, and soon Galen found himself eager to retire. However, before the dinner could be concluded, the king stood.

"Lords and ladies all, we thank Aslan this day that He has brought back Princess Lyra, the Stone Knife, as well as each of the knights who fought to bring them home. However, in this day of celebration lies an unpleasant duty that this court must conduct. On the morrow the High Court of Archenland will be convened. Preparations have gone forward as scheduled, and at nine o'clock the trial of Lady Juliana will commence. All who wish to attend are welcome to do so.

Lyra leaned over towards Galen and whispered, "That should prove interesting."

"Indeed it shall," the Narnian replied, looking briefly towards the only face in the room devoid of merriment, the hardened face of Lord Kellan, Juliana's father.

* * *

_15 Mayblossom 2076_

"The High Court of Archenland will come to order." King Lorn's voice echoed through the great hall, and the voices within it abruptly stilled. The king and queen, dressed in Archen-green velvet and wearing the gold crowns they seldom donned, sat upon the thrones of Archenland in solemn silence. The entire court of Anvard, every member of Parliament, their families, and a good many more military personnel than usual gathered to see the goings-on of the day. This day's court was not one to miss. Archenland had not had occasion for a trial such as this in over a hundred years.

"Bring in the accused," Queen Layla spoke softly, but her words resounded off the marble walls nonetheless.

At the far end of the hall the crowd parted, and three Archen soldiers entered, escorting Lady Juliana. She held her head high as she walked, her green eyes flashing with a hard frigidity. For the trial she had been allowed a change of clothing, and now she wore a dress of red velvet with a creamy lace collar and matching trimming. The soldiers stood close beside her, each with a hand on either of her arms, and they indicated for her to stand before the dais before moving to the side.

"Lady Juliana, daughter of the Lord Kellan of Silvershire, you stand accused of the crime of High Treason against the Crown of Archenland, in the person of the Princess Lyra. How do you plead?" King Lorn spoke gravely.

"Not guilty," Juliana answered, defiantly meeting the king's gaze.

"Under the laws of Archenland you have the right to legal counsel and the right to a trial by a jury. Do you wish to exercise those rights?"

"I do," Juliana evenly returned, standing very straight as the severity of her circumstances finally weighed upon her.

"Who will stand to represent the accused?" King Lorn's voice echoed off the marble walls.

"I will, your majesty," Lord Kellan stood.

"Then join your daughter, my lord."

After Lord Kellan had done so, Queen Layla turned to the guard behind the thrones and nodded. The guard turned to the door beside him and opened it, motioning for those inside to enter the hall. One by one, twelve people entered and stood to the side of the dais where the guard indicated. One wore the humble clothing of the Anvard blacksmith, another the finer raiment of an independent landowner, and still others the garb of farmers, musicians, or servants. Together they stood side by side in silence, observing the hall with solemn eyes.

"Lord Kellan," the Archen queen began. "These citizens of Archenland have agreed to sit in judgement. Having had the opportunity to question them as is your due, do you accept these citizens as jury?"

"I do, your majesty," Lord Kellan nodded.

"Then the members of the jury may be seated," the queen turned towards the twelve citizens. "Do you, then, swear to consider fairly the arguments of both the defendant and the crown and a true verdict render?"

Each member murmured an answer to the affirmative. The king and queen turned forward.

"Are counsels ready to proceed?" asked the king.

"Yes, your majesties," Lord Kellan and the crown prosecutor, Lord Trevelyan, stood and answered.

"You may proceed, Lord Trevelyan."

"Thank you, your majesties, may it please the court," the crown prosecutor stood and approached the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I bid you good morning. Today we are tasked with examining a sordid web of deceit and betrayal. The crown shall prove to you this day, friends, that one Lady Juliana, long a trusted lady of this nation's parliamentary court, did willfully conspire with the Prince Karim of Calormen against the Princess Lyra, did knowingly betray her into the hands of that self-same prince with the full intent to condemn the princess to abduction, to the taking of her person across international lines against her will, and to marriage against her will. We will further prove this day, esteemed members of the jury, that out of the smoldering depths of spite and hatred did the Lady Juliana betray the princess of Archenland, seeking to inflict the pain and suffering of exile, of torture, of slavery, and of evils unimaginable. The crime before the court today is nothing less then treason born of the basest envy, and of the woman seated before you there—" the lord pointed, his impassioned voice raising, "we ask nothing less than that you declare her traitoress to the crown, deserving of the full punishment the crown may mete out," Lord Trevelyan's voice quieted suddenly as he finished, each word heavy as though it would slice the air and fall at Juliana's feet as though the sound was made by the gavel. "Thank you."

"Lord Kellan," the queen spoke. "You may proceed."

"Thank you, your majesty, and may it please the court," Lord Kellan began. "Good members of the jury, I will not try to enrapture you with fine words nor frighten you with tales of woe. Lord Trevelyan spins a fascinating yarn, but the worth of the tale lies in its veracity, of which the crown prosecutor has none. The Lady Juliana has long been a faithful member of the parliamentary court and of this great nation, and we will show that these accusations against her person are in grave error at the least, patently false and defamatory at the worst. The Lord Trevelyan has not one shred of evidence admissible before this court today that proves the outrageous claims he makes, and I ask that you acquit the lady of these baseless charges," Lord Kellan turned back to the table and his seat. "Thank you."

* * *

Author's note: Opening statements are concluded! Stay tuned for the meat of the trial in the next chapter, _Justice Concluded._ Thank you for reading! I would love to know what you think!


	25. Chapter 24: Justice Concluded

Author's note: Here is the rest of the trial, dear readers. Again, I am afraid I kept it very procedural. This is more or less similar to a trial in an American court, although I tried to make modifications consistent with a monarchical government in a small territory with roots in British jurisprudential tradition. Thus, the king and queen have taken the place of judges and there it is generally less formal than a comparable modern, American trial would be (the most remarkable departure I have made from that is the speed of the trial, occurring less than two weeks from the time of arrest). The rights of the accused granted Juliana I have derived from the English Bill of Rights of 1689, which guaranteed the right of trial by jury and the right (if I am not mistaken) against self-incrimination. The other procedures are drawn from my own experiences observing trials, and I apologize if it is not British enough. I really have absolutely no idea how they do trials in Britain.

Alright, my political science major yammering aside, please enjoy!

Disclaimer: Narnia is not mine. The Star Trek references will continue ( :D) although they are not mine either. And Fierce-a hint for the last chapter, one of the quotes is from Khan (I think I had a bit too much time on my hands watching Star Trek while recovering from wisdom tooth surgery). ;D

Chapter the Twenty-fourth: Justice Concluded

_15 Mayblossom 2076_

"Lord Trevelyan, you may call your first witness."

The crown prosecutor stood. "Thank you, your majesties. I call Sir Reginald to the stand."

A knight stood in the audience and made his way forward.

"Sir Reginald, do you swear to speak the truth, neither adding nor subtracting, before this court today?" King Lorn asked.

"I do, your majesty," the knight replied.

"Then pray be seated," the king indicated the seat below and to the right of the dais.

"Sir Reginald," Lord Trevelyan began, "can you tell me what you were doing on the morning of the sixth of this month?"

"That morning the Stone Knife had been discovered missing, and no one could find Princess Lyra. Prince Ayden assigned each knight to take ten soldiers and search an assigned section of the castle. The morning of the sixth I was engaged in searching my assigned section."

"What was your assigned section?"

"The lower tunnels beneath the great hall, where the new wine barrels are kept."

"And what did you find?"

"I found one of the doors ajar, and a burned out torch outside it. As I pushed the door open, I found a man of Calormen dead on the floor. Several broken barrels lay strewn in the room, and a sword, an Archen sword, lay in the corner."

"And what did you do after you found that scene?"

"I ordered that nothing be touched and notified Prince Ayden immediately."

"Thank you, Sir Reginald. No further questions, your majesties."

"Lord Kellan, have you any questions?" asked the queen.

"One, your majesty. Sir Reginald," Lord Kellan replied, "When you found this gruesome scene, did you find anything, anything at all, that indicated to you that Lady Juliana was involved?"

"No, my lord."

"Thank you. No further questions."

"You may step down, Sir Reginald," the king spoke. "Call your next witness, Lord Trevelyan."

"The crown calls Prince Ayden."

Ayden stood from where she sat next to his sister, making his way forward.

"Prince Ayden, do you swear to speak the truth, neither adding nor subtracting, before this court today?" Queen Layla asked.

"Yes," Ayden replied.

"Be seated. Proceed, Lord Trevelyan."

"Thank you, your majesty. Prince Ayden, in what activity were you engaged on the sixth of this month?"

"I was coordinating the search of the castle."

"And for what were you searching?"

"For the Stone Knife and my sister."

"And for the record, your sister is…"

"Princess Lyra, my lord."

"Thank you. Now, will you be so good as to enlighten the good members of the jury what transpired when Sir Reginald came to inform you of the results of the search?"

"I, along with Sir Galen, followed Sir Reginald down the stairs to the tunnels beneath the great hall. Down the left-most tunnel Sir Reginald showed us a room that showed all the signs of a great struggle— a slain Calormene soldier, barrels broken, a sword lying in the corner, and a trail of blood that lead to the chamber of the Stone Knife."

"And is this the sword you found in the corner?" Lord Trevelyan walked to his table and picked up a straight, well-polished sword, holding it out for Ayden to inspect.

"It is."

"May I submit this sword into evidence as prosecution exhibit A?"

"It is admitted, Lord Trevelyan."

"Thank you, your majesties. Did you recognize this sword, Prince Ayden?" The crown prosecutor continued.

"Yes. It belongs to my sister."

"And is she usually careless with her weapon? Is she in the habit of leaving it in odd places or misplacing it?"

"No, not at all. I have never known her to be without it."

"Very good. Please continue to tell us what you found in the room."

"Sir Galen was with me, and as I inspected Lyra's sword, he exclaimed that he had found a slip of paper behind the door."

"And was anything written on this paper?"

"Yes, my lord. It was a letter, asking the the princess to meet the writer, purporting itself to be Sir Galen, to meet in the tunnel to discuss a matter of importance."

"Did Sir Galen seem surprised by this letter?"

"Yes, very much so. Upon reading its contents, he denied ever penning such a letter."

"And what did you think?"

"I believed him, and upon reading the letter myself, that belief was confirmed."

"How so?"

"The letter was not written in his hand."

"So you recognized the hand?"

"Yes, but not immediately."

"Whose hand did you recognize it as?"

"Lady Juliana's."

"Objection, your majesties! The prince is not an expert in the field of penmanship analysis, and cannot but speculate that the handwriting belonged to Lady Juliana."

"If I may beg the indulgence of the court, your majesties, the prince's testimony serves not as expert testimony but as minor supporting evidence."

"We will allow the question, Lord Trevelyan, but do not pursue this line of questioning any further," King Lorn replied.

"Very well, your majesty. Prince Ayden, please briefly describe the events of the past week and a half."

"I, Sir Galen, and ten of Archenland's soldiers departed Anvard to locate and rescue Princess Lyra."

"And you succeeded, as evidenced by the princess's presence in the court today. Please explain for the jury where you found her."

"In the manor house of Prince Karim, my lord."

"Thank you Prince Ayden. Lord Kellan, your witness."

"Prince Ayden," Lord Kellan began. "You mentioned a letter."

"Yes."

"You also claim to have recognized her handwriting."

"Yes. I am familiar with it."

"How did you come to be familiar with it? That seems most irregular, would you not agree?"

"Last year the lady pursued me with the most unwelcome attentions, and when I refused her advances she attempted to blackmail me with false claims."

"I see. And over the course of this interaction you became familiar with her handwriting?" Lord Kellan asked, a touch of sarcasm coloring his voice.

"Yes."

"Yet you have never spoken of such a blackmail attempt before. It has never been brought before this court in separate charge. Is it not true that it is most expedient to the tale at hand to fabricate such familiarity and criminal accusations? Is this not an attempt to besmirch Lady Juliana's good name in the eyes of this jury and this court?" Lord Kellan's voice raised incrementally with each question.

Ayden's eyes flashed in anger as he answered. "I speak naught but the truth, my lord. I say nothing for expediency's sake, and have never spoken of the blackmail attempt in order that petty affairs not divide this good court in public squabbles."

"Nevertheless, can you say with absolute, unswerving certainty that it was Lady Juliana who penned the letter?"

"No, my lord."

"No further questions, your majesties."

"If I may redirect, your majesties?" Lord Trevelyan quickly stood, and the queen nodded assent.

"Prince Ayden, can you briefly explain to the court the circumstances whereby the alleged blackmail attempt was resolved?"

"Certainly, my lord. The last blackmail letter demanded a meeting. A private one, in the same tunnels, the very same room, as my prior testimony and that of Sir Reginald referenced. My sister accompanied me, and in the ensuing discussion Lady Juliana became animated, angry, and demanded that I marry her, lest she spread all manner of false accusations in the court."

"What happened then?"

"When I continued to refuse, she lunged toward me, but Lyra caught her by the throat, drawing a dagger and threatening the lady into ceasing her attempts. It was understood by the conclusion of that meeting that Juliana would leave me alone, and in return Lyra would leave her intact and neither of us would speak of the affair again."

"Would you consider this to be an embarrassment to Lady Juliana?"

"Objection, your majesties! Calls for speculation!"

"Sustained, my lord," the king answered.

"No further questions," Lord Trevelyan took his seat.

"Call your next witness, my lord."

"The crown calls Niusha Feriha."

A murmur went through the audience as Niusha, now wearing a simple purple Archen-style dress, stood and made her way to the front.

After she had been sworn in and took her seat, Lord Trevelyan began his questions with a kindly tone.

"Lady Niusha, what was your last place of employment?"

"I was a servant in the household of Prince Karim."

"How did you come to live in Archenland?"

"I agreed to help Princess Lyra escape the Prince, and I and my fiancé came with her and the Archen knights."

"Why?"

"We have always wanted to flee Calormen, to be able to live in freedom. This was our best, our only chance, and we took it."

"Were you present in Prince Karim's company when he made a diplomatic visit to Anvard?"

"Yes."

"Where were you on the morning of the fifth of Mayblossom?"

"I was attending Prince Karim with the other servants."

"What were you doing, specifically."

"Serving tea to the Prince and his guest."

"Is that guest present in the courtroom today?"

"Yes."

"Could you point them out for me?"

"Prince Karim's guest was the lady in red sitting at the left-most table."

"Your majesties, may the record reflect that the witness has identified the accused?"

"It may," the queen nodded.

"Did you overhear any of their conversation?"

"Yes."

"Could you detail that for the court?"

"Objection, your majesties! Anything this girl claims to have overheard is hearsay and inadmissible in an Archen court of law."

"But your majesties!" Lord Trevelyan began, but the king interrupted him.

"I am afraid Lord Kellan is quite correct, Lord Trevelyan. You will not pursue this line of questioning."

"Of course, your majesties," Lord Trevelyan said resignedly. "Now, Lady Niusha, had you observed the prince's behavior over the last evening?"

"Yes. He was agitated and angry. Every servant was on pins and needles lest he find something amiss."

"What was it that caused such anger?"

"Princess Lyra, my lord. Prince Karim was furious that she had rejected his suit and railed that he would not be deterred."

"And Lady Juliana was with him the morning of the day Princess Lyra was abducted?"

"Yes."

"Thank you. No further questions."

"Lord Kellan?" The queen looked to Juliana's father.

"No questions, your majesty."

"Please proceed, Lord Trevelyan."

"The crown calls Sir Galen of Narnia."

Galen had been watching the proceedings with interest. The trial was very different than anything he had witnessed in hiding in Narnia, and found the procedures fascinating. It did not surprise him when his name was called, and he stepped forward. After agreeing that the testimony he would render would be accurate and complete, he took the assigned seat and turned his attention to the crown prosecutor.

"Sir Galen, can you explain to the court what occurred on the morning of the sixth?"

"Certainly, my lord," the Narnian replied. "I had slept in that morning, and when I awoke I promptly ran into Prince Ayden, who enlisted my help in searching for the princess, who had missed their normal training session. We searched every normal spot, and upon returning to the castle found an uproar and the Stone Knife discovered missing as well. I aided Prince Ayden in the search, examining the stables and armory. As I returned to the throne room, Sir Reginald showed us his dire findings."

"And did you make a discovery in the wine room?"

"Yes. I found a scrap of paper-a letter-clinging to the back of the door."

"Is this the letter in question?" Lord Trevelyan held up the letter.

"Yes."

"May I submit the letter as crown exhibit B, your majesties?"

"You may," the king nodded.

"Now, what did the letter contain?"

"It was a trap. Written in my name, but not by my hand nor my knowledge. It asked the princess to meet me in the cellar wine room."

"But you did not write it."

"No, my lord, nor had I ever seen that letter until that moment."

"Could you tell us what happened afterwards?"

"Preparations were being made to rescue the princess, and as I walked through the west corridor to gather appropriate supplies to join the party, Lady Juliana greeted me."

"What did she say?"

"She casually remarked that the palace was busy that day."

"And you?"

"I rather wryly agreed with her and turned to continue."

"Did she leave it at that?"

"No. She asked if I would accompany her on a ride in the countryside."

"Interesting. And what did you do?"

"Her less-than-concerned manner surprised me and I became suspicious. I began to question her about this demeanor and she evaded the questions."

"Please explain for the court what happened then."

"I noticed, as she spoke, the emerald necklace that she wore. It was quite distinctive as it was engraved in gold with the standard of Prince Karim. I had seen it once before— worn by the prince himself."

"And is this the necklace to which you refer?" Lord Trevelyan held up an emerald suspended on a delicate gold chain.

"Yes, it is," Galen nodded.

"Your majesties, may the necklace be admitted as crown exhibit C?"

"It may," nodded the queen.

"Now, what conclusion did you reach when you saw the necklace?"

"I realized that Lady Juliana must have been the one who betrayed the princess to the Calormenes, and promptly delivered her to the king and queen under that charge."

"After you delivered her to their majesties, what did you do next?"

"Under the queen's order a knight, along with several soldiers, searched the lady's chambers, while I waited with everyone else."

"And did they find anything?"

"They did, my lord. A small chest of jewels, engraved with Prince Karim's standard, and a letter the lady had thrown away— a letter from the prince enlisting Lady Juliana's aid in abducting the princess."

"Is this the chest, and this the letter?" The crown prosecutor picked up the items from his table.

"They are, my lord," Galen answered.

"May your majesties admit these as crown exhibits D and E, respectively?"

"Granted, my lord prosecutor," the king answered promptly, leaning back in his seat and absentmindedly clenching and unclenching his hand. As the trial progressed, the king and queen had become increasingly ill at-ease, and the strain of maintaining a neutral stance in a matter so dear to them became evident to those observing.

"No further questions," Lord Trevelyan sat down.

"Sir Galen," Lord Kellan stood and paced slowly in front of the Narnian. "You say that you delivered Lady Juliana to the king upon suspecting her of betraying the princess, is that correct?"

"It is," Galen answered, shifting in his seat.

"That is a rather vague statement, sir. Would you care to elaborate on the exact manner in which you arrested the lady?"

Galen paused a moment.

"Well, my lord? What say you?" Lord Kellan pressed.

"Upon realizing the necklace she wore belonged to Prince Karim, I pinned her to the wall and accused her of as much," Galen met Lord Kellan's gaze with hard determination evident in his eyes.

"By the throat, am I correct?" Lord Kellan interrupted.

"Yes," Galen answered, a steely edge creeping into his voice.

"And then marched her to the king at dagger-point?"

"Yes."

"I see," Lord Kellan turned away from Galen and paced closer to the jury. Turning around sharply, he asked, "that is a very discourteous way to treat a lady, would you not agree?"

"A traitor, lady or not, little deserves courtesy, my lord," Galen returned.

"But you are a knight, are you not? Sworn to uphold principles of courtesy and chivalry, at cost even of your life? If those principles mean so little to you that a speculative conclusion with no basis in hard fact would cause you to depart from them, how can these fine jurors place their reliance upon your word that you speak the truth today? " Lord Kellan prodded.

"My lord, the principle of justice is also one I am sworn to uphold," Galen glared at the man in front of him. "What's more, I am a knight of Narnia's order of the Lion's Redemption, my lord. Thus, I am sworn to protect the Stone Knife with my life, before all else, courtesy, chivalry, and even honor included. The princess's betrayer betrayed to the Calormenes the Stone Knife as well, and I acted appropriately within my sworn duties as my father's successor," Galen continued, turning to look at the jury. "If anyone thinks I acted inappropriately in the face of treason, betrayal, and the helper of those who stole that which I am sworn to protect, then I ask that you lay the fault upon me, and me alone," Galen finished resoundingly, the otherwise softly spoken words echoing against the walls.

"No further questions, your majesties," Lord Kellan sat down.

"Was there a doubt in your mind that Lady Juliana was the traitor for which you sought?" Lord Trevelyan stood again.

"None whatsoever, my lord."

"And why is that?"

"She herself as much as confessed."

"Indeed? What did she say?"

"That the princess ever interfered in her plans. The lady declared that she held no allegiance towards the princess and expressed her hope that the princess would never be found."

"Thank you, Sir Galen. No further questions, your majesties," Lord Trevelyan sat down, a triumphant smile playing on his lips.

"You may step down, Sir Galen," Queen Layla spoke. Galen quickly rose and returned to his seat in the audience. Still angry from Lord Kellan's questions, it took the Narnian a moment to turn his focus back to the trial.

"Have you any other witness, my lord prosecutor?" Galen faintly heard the queen say.

"Just one, your highness. The crown calls Princess Lyra to the stand," Lord Trevelyan answered, and Galen saw his friend take the stand and agree to speak truthfully.

"Your highness, may I offer my congratulations on your return to Anvard?" The prosecutor began.

"Thank you, my lord," Lyra nodded.

"Can you detail for the jury what happened on the evening of the fifth of Mayblossom?"

"That evening the court held a farewell banquet for Prince Karim, who was supposedly to return to Calormen the following morning. After the dinner ended, I walked the parapet for a while, and upon returning to my room, I found someone had pushed a sealed note beneath my door."

"What did the letter say?"

"It was written under Sir Galen's name, asking me to meet him in the tunnels beneath the throne room. It said he had something important to discuss with me."

"And you went, correct?"

"Yes."

"What did you find?"

"When I entered the cellar room, instead of Sir Galen, Lady Juliana stood there, waiting for me."

"What happened next."

"Two Calormene soldiers entered from the other door, their scimitars drawn. Juliana smiled a snake-like smile and withdrew to a corner as I drew my sword and engaged the Calormenes in battle. I killed the first and wounded the second, but five more entered the room and eventually one landed a blow that dazed me and gave them the opportunity to disarm and restrain me."

"What happened next?" Lord Trevelyan continued.

"Prince Karim came into the room, gloating. I kicked at him and knocked him over, and he struck me across the face in retaliation, saying how I should never have humiliated him."

"And then?"

"Juliana took her time to gloat as well, how I would never meddle in her affairs again, congratulated me on my "engagement," confirmed that her traitor's silver was in her chambers, and left."

"She congratulated you on an engagement?"

"Yes. She knew very well that the prince planned to force a marriage upon returning to Calormen."

"I see. Then what happened?"

"The soldiers tried to force me to follow the prince down the other tunnel—"

"Towards the Stone Knife room?"

"Yes. I protested. Loudly. Being introduced to the impact of a scimitar pommel was the last thing I remember before waking up in a Calormene carriage next to Niusha."

"Please tell us briefly what transpired between that time and the time you made your escape," Lord Trevelyan asked, and Galen listened to the tale he had not fully heard as his friend detailed the journey to Calormen, what happened there, and how the group made their escape. Ayden sat next to him, and from the look of anger that settled into his face, the prince wished very much that he could have been the ender of Karim's days instead. Soon, however, Lyra finished speaking and Lord Trevelyan sat down.

"Princess Lyra," Lord Kellan began, "may I take it from your testimony that you have known Lady Juliana a long time?"

"Yes, I have, unfortunately."

"So you have never cared for her much?"

"Not particularly. Her attempt at blackmailing my brother rather ended whatever amicable feelings I ever had toward her," Lyra responded wryly.

"So, is it not true that you would have adequate motivation to see her standing in the court destroyed?"

"Well—"

"Even to the extent of concocting this fantastic story?"

"Why, no, I—"

"Is it not true, my lady, that you would do anything to spite Lady Juliana, do anything to see her in irons, placing the blame upon her innocent shoulders rather than admit that your own lack of awareness lead to the chain of events you describe?" Lord Kellan's accused bitterly. The room erupted in murmurs.

"There will be no further outburst from the floor!" King Lorn admonished. Lyra looked balefully at Lord Kellan, her eyes flashing with anger as she stood and addressed him.

"Lord Kellan, if I harbored spite against Lady Juliana and hated her as you so claim," Lyra stood and pointed to her sword which lay on the evidence table beside her, enunciating each word with steely gravity, "then this blade would be stained with her blood, not laying upon a table of evidence in Archenland's highest court."

Lord Kellan looked taken aback, and returned to his seat. "No further questions."

Lord Trevelyan stood. "Nothing further, your majesties. The Crown rests."

"Thank you, Lord Trevelyan. Lord Kellan, have you any witnesses to call?"

"I have but one, your majesties. I call Lady Kellan."

A murmur went through the crowd as Lady Juliana's mother stood and took the stand.

"Lady Kellan, how long have you known Lady Juliana?"

"For over seventeen years, my lord, her entire life."

"And in that time, have you ever known her to be given to violence?"

"Not at all! She has always been a docile and sweet child."

"Have you known her to be given to hatred, envy, or any of the other vices the prosecution alleges?"

"Never!"

"And if she were to be angry with someone, suppose the princess, would she be likely to retaliate in the manner the prosecution describes?"

"Not at all! I could never believe she would ever betray Archenland!" Lady Kellan dabbed her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief, turning towards the jury. "I beg of you, do not believe these venomous lies!"

"That will be all, Lady Kellan, thank you," Lord Kellan spoke. "Your witness, Lord Trevelyan."

"No questions, your majesties."

"The defense rests, your majesties."

"Thank you, my lords. Lord Trevelyan, please proceed," King Lorn spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the testimony, seen the evidence. Heard from the princess herself how the Lady Juliana betrayed her to the wicked Calormenes, heard the unspeakable evils the prince had planned against her and those which he and his minions executed against the faithful Niusha. You have heard the testimony of Archenland and Narnia's good knights, how they found Lady Juliana in her treachery. You can see the necklace before you, read the letters themselves. As you yourselves have heard from sworn testimony of the princess herself, who has always been among the most stalwart and dependable of Archenland's defenders, the lady who sits before you now did conspire with the representative of an enemy power to abduct her person, knowingly condemning her to the evil fate the Calormenes had in store. Were it not for the bravery and constancy of both the princess and Archenland's brave knights, Anvard would this day be in mourning because of Lady Juliana's actions. You, my friends, can see for yourselves that Lady Juliana, once a trusted member of the parliamentary court, has betrayed, part and parcel, the nation who has shown her every kindness. The day is yours to judge, and there is but one just verdict before you. We, the citizens of this great nation, ask you, therefore, to declare the traitoress guilty of charge levied against her. Thank you."

Lord Trevelyan finished with a flourish and took his seat.

"My friends," Lord Kellan began, "the question before your judgement today is one of treachery and deceit. However, that treachery and that deceit have not come by the hand of the lady who stands accused. The crown prosecutor would have you rely upon the testimony of those who witnessed nothing, and his case relies primarily upon evidence that is circumstantial and easily fabricated. What is more, it relies upon the words of the princess herself, who has been Lady Juliana's bitter rival. The testimony against the lady is but a web of lies, spun in darkness against her by the princess and her closest friends. We leave it to you to judge its merits and let it wither in the light of day. Lady Juliana has been nothing but a faithful citizen and trusted member of the parliamentary court, and we implore you to free her from this wretched snare of falsity. Thank you."

"Thank you, counsels," King Lorn spoke. He turned to address the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is now your solemn duty to weigh the evidence in the case before the court. It is for you, and you alone, to determine the credibility of the witnesses, the veracity of their words, and the quality of the evidence presented. If there is a reasonable doubt in your minds that the Lady Juliana committed the crime of treason, it is your duty to acquit her. However, if each of you is convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that she has committed the crime, it is your duty to proclaim her unanimously guilty and to provide a suggested punishment for the crown to consider. As you retire to the jury chambers to deliberate, know that all evidence and transcripts of these proceedings are available to you, but you must not take Lady Juliana's refusal to testify as an admission of guilt nor consider it in any wise against her. To your hands we entrust the judgement. Thank you," the king finished instructing and stood, while the rest of those in attendance followed suit.

"The High Court of Archenland stands in recess," the queen declared once the jury had filed out. The room broke into an excited chatter, and Galen made his way out to the parapet before anyone could approach him.

"At least that is over," he heard Lyra mutter behind him, and he smiled as she stood beside him at the parapet.

"Are trials always so complicated?"

"At the least! This one was the least complicated trial I have observed."

"Really?" Galen puzzled.

"Usually the defense has at least something more to offer, and were the circumstances more complicated I think the crown prosecutor would have called more witnesses."

"I think I am rather glad that I have not been here for those," Galen replied, and behind him Ayden chuckled.

"That Lord Kellan is a nasty one, isn't he?" the prince remarked.

"I suppose he had to be. He had little else," Lyra answered.

"Aye, agreed," said the Narnian. "Now what do we do?"

"We wait for the jury to return with a verdict, and if it is not guilty we all go to dinner," Ayden replied.

"And if guilty?"

"Then mother and father pronounce sentence, and then we all go to dinner."

"I think I like the common theme you have there, Ayden," Galen smiled.

"Oh, he's always got food on the brain," Lyra scoffed, a twinkle in her eye.

"Speaking of food, I think I'll go find some before the jury comes back. It could be ages, you know," Ayden returned with a smile, undeterred.

"I rather think I'll join you!" Galen declared.

"Agreed!" Lyra laughed.

The threesome had found a batch of freshly baked bread in the kitchen and were quickly devouring it when a servant came running up to them.

"The jury returns, my lords and lady," he declared breathlessly.

"Thank you, Ben," Lyra replied, and the three quickly made their way back to the throne room.

"All rise!" A guard ordered from the front of the room as the three entered. First, the king and queen returned and took their seats, then the guard showed the jury in. Once they were seated, the king indicated that everyone could take their seats.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?" King Lorn asked.

The Anvard blacksmith stood. "We have, your majesties."

"Pray declare it," the queen instructed. "The accused will rise."

Lady Juliana and her father stood.

"We, the citizens of the jury, find the accused, one Lady Juliana of Silvershire, guilty of treason against the crown of Archenland, in the person of the Princess Lyra."

At the jury's declaration, Juliana had closed her eyes momentarily, reopening them with even colder glint than before, while her mother had begun to sob into her embroidered handkerchief.

"Have you a suggestion for appropriate punishment?" The king asked the jury. The blacksmith nodded, handing a folded paper to the guard, who delivered it to the king and queen.

"Very well," the queen acknowledged. "Thank you for your service, good citizens. You are free to depart."

As the jury made their way out of the room to return home, the king and queen considered the jury's recommendation. After a moment's pause, the queen spoke.

"Lord Kellan," she began, "I understand your daughter is within two months of her eighteenth birthday, is that correct?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"And at that time, were you intending to turn over to her the portion of your lands and monies which you deemed a suitable inheritance, as is customary?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"What exactly was that inheritance to comprise?"

"The Manor Silvercreek, with its estate, servants, and funds required for its upkeep."

"Thank you, my lord," the queen returned, and they paused a moment more.

"Lady Juliana," the king began after a moment. She and her father again stood. "The punishment for treason against the crown has customarily been that of death. While there is little compassion in my heart for you, the queen and I acknowledge that you are young and we wish to minimize the harm done to your family in this court. Thus, the sentence of death is waived." At this Juliana did not alter in her demeanor, but her parents were visibly relieved. "However, the crime of which you have been convicted is no small one. The jury has given an excellent recommendation, and it is our intention to follow it to the letter. Thus, Lady Juliana, you are hereby banished from the Kingdom of Archenland. Returning to any of the lands or territories pertaining thereto will result in the immediate reinstatement of the death sentence. By the end of three day's time, you are to be transported to the coast and there put aboard a Calormene merchant vessel bound out of Archen territories. Furthermore, the inheritance that your father had reserved for you is hereby transferred to the crown to be disposed of at our pleasure. Will Niusha and Emeth please come forward?" the king continued, and the surprised couple timidly stepped before the Archen monarchs. "Both of you showed kindness and loyalty to our daughter, and have proved more loyal to Archenland than one of her native citizens. Therefore, we declare you both to be citizens of Archenland, with all the rights and privileges that accompany that citizenship, and grant to you the full inheritance of the traitoress Juliana— the Manor Silvercreek, its estate, servants, and accompanying monies— to belong to you and your descendants' until the end of time. The High Court of Archenland stands adjourned."

At these words, Galen and his companions could not help but smile, rushing up to congratulate the flabbergasted pair of new Archenlanders. The guards, meanwhile, promptly took Lady Juliana into custody again and marched her back towards the dungeon as her father attempted to comfort his wife's renewed sobs.

"Niusha, Emeth, congratulations!" Lyra exclaimed once she reached them.

"Aye, it is well deserved!" Galen added, and Ayden nodded.

"I cannot believe it!" Emeth exclaimed. "We are strangers, come but newly into this land, and you all have been so good to us."

"You were strangers. You are no longer, my friends," Ayden smiled.

"If you like, you can have the wedding here at Anvard, or on the grounds of your new estate," Lyra said excitedly.

"Sister, before you have the entire wedding planned out for them, what about a little dinner first?" Ayden interrupted good-naturedly.

"Always with the food, brother," Lyra teased. "Of course, you are right, though. Why do we not all share dinner out on the terrace?"

* * *

Galen had escaped the noisy crowd after the trial had concluded, and after sharing a pleasant meal with Ayden, Lyra, Niusha, and Emeth he had slipped away to take a walk. Now the Narnian sat beneath the familiar willow in Lyra's glen. The trial had taken the better part of the day, and now the moon's silver light streamed over Mount Argyros and flooded the little glen with milky luminescence, sparkling off the waterfall and the crags of the mountains above it. A gentle wind tossed the willow leaves and blew against Galen's face, bringing the sweet scent of spring flowers with it. The Narnian sighed, and looked down at the carved wooden box he held.

"The horizon still seems clouded, Aslan," he softly spoke, looking at the reflection of the moon in the pool. "I feel as though the sea calls me, yet I do not know where to go. Is there truly a place of safety for the Knife? Or must I aimlessly seek the edge of the world, hoping to avoid those who would destroy what I must protect?" The Narnian looked toward the mountains, where Aravir shone in the darkening sky. "How do I know? Aslan, when will the dawn come?" Galen whispered despairingly. Softly, almost imperceptibly, the wind blew against his face again, but this time brought with it a wild, free, sweet perfume that he had smelled once before.

"The dawn is already upon you, young one," a Voice, deep, rumbling, and immeasurably wise spoke from behind him.

Startled, he jumped to his feet, eyes wide in amazement.

"Aslan!" the Narnian whispered, finding his voice had left him for a moment.

"My Lord," Galen greeted, heart racing and voice filled with happiness and awe as his senses returned and he knelt before the Great Lion, head bowed.

* * *

Author's note: Believe it or not, I really did shorten the trial more than would have been thorough and proper for a real trial of this sort, but you get the idea. Hope you enjoyed it! I am curious-are you satisfied with Juliana's punishment, or would you rather have had her dead on the morrow? Please let me know.

I will try to update more quickly, but you know me. Until next time, dear readers!


	26. Chapter 25: The Problem of Popularity

Author's Note: Well, dear readers, I suppose six months is better than seven, but neither is very wonderful an update interval. In any case, I thank you very much for your patience. I am very happy, though, to have graduated from college and will be on my way to grad school in a couple of months. Well, onward ho!

Updated Author's Note: I've now corrected a couple of particularly irritating grammatical mistakes. It seems I am quite the bonehead today. My apologies for leaving that subject out without its verb!

_Disclaimer:__ Narnia is not mine, no copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

Chapter the Twenty-fifth: the Problem of Popularity

The moon shone softly over the bubbling falls and soft grasses of the little Archen glen, and the snow on the mountain tops glistened silver in her light. Beyond the tree tops the capitol of Archenland busied itself with music and merriment, but in the glen the only music was made by the waterfall and the nightingale in the silvery aspen leaves. Were someone to have watched the glen that evening, though, they would have found a strange sight come to meet them. The most enormous Lion stood upon the breeze-blown grasses beneath the willow tree, a soft golden glow washing each grass blade and creamy buttercup in vibrant color. To the young Narnian who knelt before the Lion, it seemed as if everything around him had somehow grown _richer_— as though he had been living all his life in a hazy dream and had only just awakened to find the world dawning anew.

"My Lord, if I may," Galen began, a warm flush of happiness resting on his face as he opened the smooth wooden box in his hands, "it is an honor to return to You that which is Your own."

"Rise, knight of Narnia," the Great Lion's voice softly reverberated. "You have done well."

The Narnian stood, and could not help the smile that lit his eyes. "I am honored, my Lord."

"But your story is only just beginning, and you will serve as guardian a little longer," Aslan continued, turning towards the pool.

"Then there is a place for the Stone Knife!" Galen turned towards the Lion elatedly.

"Yes," Aslan spoke. "I have made a place for it— the sanctuary you have endeavored to find, where the Stone Knife may be kept in honor while the world lasts."*

"I ask forgiveness for my query, my Lord, but why do You not take the Stone Knife and deliver it Yourself? Surely You are more able a protector than I could ever aspire to be."

"You ask forgiveness where none is required, dear one," Aslan answered, the light of laughter in His eyes. "There is yet much good that you will be able to do in the journey to come, the Stone Knife in your keeping."

Galen sat beside the Lion at the edge of the pool and glanced down momentarily. When he turned his gaze back towards Aslan, the Lion was looking above the tree tops to where Aravir shone jewel-like in the indigo sky.

"I must caution you, though. The way ahead will not be easy," He looked back towards the Narnian. "The fate of many, not merely the fate of the Stone Knife, rest in the balance of this quest's course."

Galen looked up towards Aslan. In that moment, gazing into the Lion's deep amber eyes, he felt warmth fill him, a peace unlike any he had ever felt stilling his racing heart. The moment could not have been more than a few seconds, but the Narnian felt as though it lasted an eternity.

"Then I ask only that Thou givest me the strength to accomplish the task," the young knight spoke reverently.

"Never fear thee, dear child," the Lion answered, a smile in His sonorous voice. He paused a moment before continuing. "The sanctuary lies across the sea, far to the east of the Lone Islands. There, at the beginning of the end of the world, lies an island," Aslan turned towards the pool and blew softly upon it. The water rippled, and upon its surface Galen could see the image of a small island with a wide bay. Its downy green hills sloped gently towards a sky tinged with rose and gold, while silent waves brushed the sandy shores. "There I have made My Table and thither do I send you to fulfill your journey."*

The image on the pool's surface faded, once more reflecting the stars above it, and the Lion turned towards Galen. "Trust in a precious few the purpose of your journey, and be on your guard against all others. Enemies you as yet do not know will seek you and that which you carry."

"How will I know whom to trust?"

"One of them stands within hearing," the Lion raised his voice a trifle and smiled patiently, gazing beyond Galen towards the edge of the glen. A skirt and sleeve fluttered in a breath of wind as Lyra emerged from behind a tree, face flushed.

"My apologies, my Lord," Lyra murmured, eyes downcast, once she had approached and knelt in the soft grass, her soft white skirts puddling in the grass around her. "I did not wish to interrupt."

"Rise, princess of Archenland. No apologies are necessary," Aslan replied, His golden eyes warm and bright.

Lyra smiled softly and stood beside her Narnian friend.

"You too have a purpose across the Eastern seas," the Lion spoke.

Lyra could not help the smile of excitement that sparkled in her blue eyes.

"Princess of Archenland, if you are willing, will seek the Utter East with the last knight of the order of My Redemption. In aiding him, it will lay within your power to cripple one of Archenland's most dangerous foes."

"I am willing, dearest Lord," Lyra answered swiftly and resolutely, eyes a-glint with anticipation.

A wise smile graced the countenance of the Great Lion. "I knew that neither of you, dear ones, would do any less."

"Now, because you came, daughter, and did not run from Me," Aslan pulled one of His great paws up from the grass, and Galen looked down to see a bright blue stone nestled in the soft turf. "For this, I know, you will find a use," the Lion's voice carried a hint of laughter.

Lyra bent down and carefully, almost timidly, lifted the stone from its bed of grass. She found it was bound to a delicate silver chain, and as she held it up in the moonlight it glinted like a drop of dew on the strand of a spider's web.

"Oh, Aslan, thank you!" said she, voice filled with awe as she beheld the Lion's gift.

"Take care, dear ones. The road will not be easy, but never doubt that I will always stand beside you and guide your way." As He spoke, the Great Lion breathed softly upon them, and Galen felt his spirit encouraged and strengthened beyond measure.

"Thank you, my Lord," the young knight knelt once more, his head bowed. "I hope that I shall always serve Thee well."

"As do I, dearest Lord," the Archen princess knelt beside him.

"You already have, dear children," the Lion's voice resounded as softly as a breath of wind upon the willow leaves. Galen looked up and found himself alone once more but for the friend beside him. As he glanced toward his Archen companion, he started momentarily.

"Lyra, look to the necklace!"

As the Archen princess looked down at the jewel now suspended around her neck she realized that it glowed with a light all its own, a light that the jewels on Galen's sword and the Stone Knife emitted as well. After a moment it faded, and the two were left to the same murmuring water and singing nightingale as before.

As the daze subsided, the Narnian jumped to his feet, a smile of wonder lighting his face with a joy that the Archenlander had never seen before. Lyra stood as well, her heart light with amazement.

"I can scarcely believe it, Galen, He was right here, speaking to me!"

"Aye, was He not amazing?" the Narnian exclaimed, "I feel as though I could swim all the way to the Utter East!"

"What shall we do now, my friend?" Lyra turned her gaze from the velvet sky where Aravir glimmered. "We are bound to seek the East, but towards that end there must be great preparation."

"Aye, agreed," Galen replied, his face becoming a trifle more serious, though the joyful light that had sparked in his eyes remained, a glimmer of confident determination. "We must entrust this secret to as few as possible, and must seem for all the world that we are undertaking the voyage for another unrelated purpose."

Lyra nodded, her arms wrapped around herself as she leaned against the willow tree in thought. "I would think," she said, "we could entrust our true mission to my parents and Ayden."

"I agree," Galen replied. "Without their aid I could not imagine this venture succeeding."

"What venture?" An impertinent voice questioned, and the two jumped. "I thought you two might be here. You know, a person might begin to feel left out if he had a mind to," Ayden, feigning hurt, stood at the edge of the glen.

Lyra and Galen, visibly relieved, stood to greet him.

"Oh, Ayden," Lyra rushed to him with shining eyes, "we've seen Aslan!"

* * *

Later that evening, Ayden, Lyra, and Galen sat in the tastefully decorated sitting room of the king and queen's private quarters. The servants had been dismissed, and the rooms lay in corridors no one had any occasion to come. Presently King Lorn and Queen Layla entered the room and sat down.

"Your majesties," the Narnian began, standing, "I know this must seem quite irregular for me to request a meeting so late in the evening, but the importance of the matter at hand cannot be understated. I would ask that, of your courtesy, to keep what I am about to say in the strictest confidence." At the king's nod, Galen continued. "Your majesty said, King Lorn, upon my arrival in this country that Archenland would be honored to render me such aid as it was able. I come now to ask for that aid."

"Of course, Sir Galen, anything that we can do," King Lorn answered, the concern showing in his eyes mirrored in the countenance of his wife. "Is anything wrong?"

"Not at all, my lord. You are aware of the purpose for which I journeyed to Anvard. This evening," he paused, "Aslan appeared and spoke to me of it."

The king and queen both jumped up.

"Aslan! Here?!" exclaimed the king.

"What did He say?" Queen Layla asked, wonder in her eyes.

"I am to travel East, beyond the Lone Islands, and seek an island where Aslan has made a sanctuary for the Stone Knife to be kept in safety."

"But no one has ever mapped the Eastern Seas, and no one who has ever ventured there has returned," the king remarked.

"It is no matter to me, your majesty," Galen replied. "This is of Aslan's making and the fulfillment of all I have dared to dream. How could I fail to go?"

"Of course," Queen Layla smiled, and a momentary quiet settled over the room.

"I will seek the East as well," Lyra's voice broke the silence.

"Lyra, no!" the queen jumped up from her seat again, her countenance pale with fear and concern.

"Mother, I too saw Aslan and He said that this quest holds the fate of many, and in aiding our Narnian friend I will be able to stop Archenland's most dangerous foe. It is my honor to go, and if I do not return, I will know that I will have done what is right and what will protect my dear country," the Archen princess spoke with resolve. She stood and grasped her mother's hand fervently. "Please understand, mother, that this is what I must do."

The queen looked down a moment, then raised her tear-filled eyes to meet her daughter's gaze.

"Of course you must, my Lyra," the queen blinked away the tears and smiled. "I know you well."

"Then if this is the task at hand," King Lorn began, "there must needs be thorough preparations. The first problem is to determine a ship and, more importantly, a captain. Though secrecy is doubtless important, the ship captain will need to be told and, thus, need to be one that we can trust. If I may," the king continued, "I would think that the best ship for the voyage would be the _Jewel of Archenland_."

"Oh, Father, thank you!" Lyra's eyes lit up at the ship's name. "She's a beautiful brig** and one of the fastest ships the Archen fleet," she explained to the Narnian.

"What's more important," Ayden interjected, "her captain, Captain Torin, is a loyal and trusted friend. There is no one I can think of who would be more willing to undertake the voyage, more willing to see it through, and more willing to preserve its secret."

Galen nodded, a pensive expression on his face.

"The problem that puzzles me, however, is of designing a pretense for the journey. Surely it would arouse suspicion if the princess decided of a morning to take a jaunt to the end of the world," Galen remarked after a moment, a hint of wryness entering his voice as looked towards Lyra and Ayden.

"I suppose it would, at that," the king chuckled.

Suddenly Lyra stood and snapped her fingers. "Diplomacy!"

"Of course!" Ayden stood and smiled mischievously. "What could be more natural? Archenland's royal envoy," he put a hand on Lyra's shoulder, "and her gallant head of security," he motioned towards Galen, a twinkle in his eye, "on a diplomatic voyage to maintain amicable relations with the eastern isles."

"The arrangements with the ship captain will need to be done in person," the queen said somewhat doubtfully.

"Then Juliana will prove herself useful for something," spoke the princess. "The day after tomorrow the sentence is to be carried out, and she is to be transported to the port of Ramstowne. The fleet is at anchor there, and it should be no trouble for us to join the party escorting Juliana to the coast."

"It sounds as though all is coming together well," the king remarked, satisfied. "Let us take to the necessary preparations with a good will."

The Narnian stood and bowed. "Thank you, your majesties. I have not the words to express my gratitude."

"None are necessary, Sir Galen," King Lorn replied. "I only wish you Godspeed and all success in your errand."

* * *

After he took leave of the king and queen, Galen made his way to the stables, where he had a much needed talk with his fellow Narnian.

"Aiolos, I have so much to tell you!" Galen exclaimed as he pushed open the stable door. Aiolos followed him outside and they began to walk by the light of the stars.

"What has happened, my friend?" the Horse inquired, his ears tilted forward with curiosity.

"I have seen Aslan, Aiolos, this very night!"

The Horse was speechless for a moment. "Well, what did He say? What was He like?"

"Amazing, Aiolos," Galen beamed. "There is a safe place for the Stone Knife! Aslan told me that it lies beyond the Lone Islands in the Eastern Sea, and I am to seek Him there."

"I know not what to say," Aiolos replied. "In any other context I would think such a venture madness, but if Aslan bids you go, I know that you will be safe."

"You have always been a constant friend to me, Aiolos, and have aided me beyond my ability to repay," Galen looked the horse solemnly. "I would in no wise try to exclude you, but I worry that a ship is not equipped with adequate quarters for a Horse. When I think of weeks, even months, spent at sea with you kept down in the hold without the sun or fresh air, my heart cannot stand the sorrow of it."

Aiolos whinnied a sort of horsey chuckle. "I must agree with you, young one. A ship is no place for a free Narnian Horse. It has been my honor to aid you in this solemn quest, and it will continue to be my honor until you depart this nation."

"What will you do afterwards?" Galen asked, concern in his voice.

"Do not worry for me, my friend. I will return to the southern forests of Narnia, where some of my family live. It will be an easy journey, and I will not need to stray from the protection of the forests. My worry is for you, Galen. The Eastern Seas," the Horse sighed. "I cannot think of more dangerous an adventure. My prayers and thoughts will always be with you."

* * *

_16 Mayblossom 2076_

The next day brought a gentle rain upon the green spring foliage. After a light breakfast, Galen had spent the morning hours strolling along the windowed corridors of Anvard in thought. As he walked, though, he encountered many courtiers.

"Sir Galen, good morning!" Lord Porphyra greeted him warmly.

"My lord," Galen returned with a nod and continued to walk, but the Archen lord stopped him.

"How are you faring, good sir, after your adventure of the past week?"

"I am well, my lord, thank you," Galen answered succinctly, though not impolitely. "We were all most fortunate in our endeavor."

"You were much more than fortunate, I hear. The Stone Knife has a great power to heal and destroy, they say."

"Aye, Aslan's power is great, my lord," Galen replied tersely.

"It will be a great blessing to Archenland when you return the knife to its gallery. When will that occur, my good knight?"

Galen paused.

"I must begin preparations for tomorrow's journey, my lord, but I will, perhaps, discuss this upon my return. If you will excuse me," the Narnian bowed and continued down the corridor.

"Sir Galen!" A voice rang out a moment later. A girl clad in bright tangerine silk hurried up.

"Lady Valencia," Galen returned, fighting back a cringe.

"Oh, Sir Galen, could you come with me a moment? Thank you!" The girl did not wait for answer, seizing the Narnian's hand and half-dragging him down the corridor. Around the corner at the bottom of the stairs clustered a group of similarly attired girls who simpered and giggled as the two joined them. The cringe was now very hard to suppress.

"How can I be of service, my ladies," Galen asked, a hint of weariness creeping into his voice. The girls giggled again.

"Sir Galen, we have heard so many fantastic stories about the Stone Knife. Could we see it?"

"Well, my ladies, I must apologize, but … "

"Oh, please, sir knight!" Valencia simpered and laid a hand on his arm. "We have been dying to see such an amazingly powerful object! Why, if we could see it, perhaps any wish might come true!"

Galen's expression hardened, and he pulled away.

"I am sorry, my ladies. The Stone Knife is not the magic lamp of Calormene fable, however much you might wish it otherwise. Please excuse me," the Narnian walked quickly away and ducked into the nearest stair. He quickly ascended the steps and peered out the door on the next level. Seeing no one, he dashed across the corridor and entered his room.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Galen sat down on the bed. He had hardly rested a minute when a knock sounded on his door. Another court lord stood there.

"I am sorry, my lord," Galen quickly spoke before the lord could utter a word. "I must be off to… to sparring practice." He pulled the door shut and stepped quickly down the corridor. Ascending another stair, he made sure the way was clear before hurrying around the corner. Coming to the door set in the round turret structure, he knocked frantically.

"Galen, come in!" Lyra greeted upon opening the door.

"Oh, thank you, my friend. They are after me!"

"Who is after you?" she laughed, but thought the better of it upon seeing her friend's harried expression.

"_Them_! The courtiers! They never give me a moment's peace! Not even in my own room!"

"Never worry, dear friend! Have lunch here with me today, and we can pore over some of these archived sea charts. The guards have standing orders never to allow courtiers down this hall," the Archen princess said with a smile.

"Thank you," Galen said, much relieved, as he plopped into one of the two plush chairs around the map-covered table in the center of Lyra's sitting room.

A pair of servants brought a hearty luncheon, and the afternoon hours were whiled away over the yellowing edges of many an old map.

"Are there no more maps of the seas beyond the Lone Islands?" Galen asked after they had pored over all the maps on the table.

"I am afraid not," Lyra shook her head. "No explorers have ever returned from the Eastern seas with reliable records. Some have sailed until forced to turn back, but found nothing but sea."

The Narnian leaned back in his chair and looked to his friend with seriousness. "Then ours is indeed a leap of faith."

* * *

_17 Mayblossom 2076_

The seventeenth of Mayblossom dawned bright, the happy rays of sunlight illuminating the vibrant colors of the new spring flowers as the robin sang her cheery tune. The promise of a lovely day, however, had but little affect on the spirit surrounding Archenland's capitol. A tense hush fell over Anvard, its inhabitants going about their business quietly, all too aware of the significance of the day. By nine o'clock, a group of ten soldiers and three knights dressed in chain mail and Archen green tabards assembled in the Anvard courtyard with their mounts. Sir Torban, Sir Glyn, and Sir Glynan wore green cloaks and carried bright shields, while the soldiers carried long lances with the golden Archen gryphon proud upon the green standards fluttering from the tips.

Six stable hands approached, each leading a saddled horse. Aiolos walked ahead of them, once again bearing neither saddle nor bridle. Another stable hand followed after a moment, leading a pack horse loaded with several bags.

After a moment, Lyra, Ayden, and Galen emerged from the castle and entered the courtyard. Each carried small leather valise and a traveling satchel. While each wore a soft shirt rather than chain mail, Ayden wore a green tabard similar to that of the knights, Lyra wore her leather cuirass stamped with the Archen standard, and Galen wore the bright blue tabard of his grandfather.

"The air is a trifle chilly for the season, would you not agree?" Lyra remarked as they descended the three shallow stairs to the courtyard. She fastened her forest green traveling cloak around her shoulders, and Ayden did the same.

"Aye, it is a little cold at that, sister."

"I, for one, will be glad to have this duty finished, regardless of the temperature," Galen added as he pulled a dark blue cloak around himself.

"Then we had best be mounting up. The guards are escorting her up now," Ayden advised.

The three friends took their horses (or greeted his Horse) from the stable hands and mounted.

"Well, Aiolos, it seems we at least have one more journey ahead of us, at least."

"I am glad of it. The stable has become quite dull, I must confess."

"I am sorry, my friend," Galen remorsefully replied, "I would doubt very much, at least, if this journey is a dull one."

At that moment, Lord and Lady Kellan entered the courtyard and silently took their mounts. At the same time, a court herald dressed in the green Archen tabard and carrying a bundle of rolled up parchments that bore the royal seal came out of the castle and stood before Ayden and Lyra.

"Your highnesses," he swept a low bow, "Herald Parry at your service. Their majesties have bid me join the journey to Ramstowne and see that the announcements of judgement in the case of the traitoress Juliana be posted accordingly. Shall I join the traveling party?"

"Aye, with a good will," Ayden replied.

"Welcome to our company, good herald."

"Thank you, my lady," the herald swept another bow and mounted his horse.

At that moment, the sound of marching echoed into the courtyard and the Narnian turned to look.

A platoon of Archen soldiers, with Sir Reinald at their head came into the doorway of the castle. Between them walked Lady Juliana, head held high. Her raven hair hung in loose curls around the shoulders of her red velvet traveling cloak. Beneath it she wore a long chocolate colored riding dress, and her green eyes stared at the courtyard walls with a cold gleam. As she stepped down the steps, Galen was able to see that her hands were bound securely, though not cruelly. Lady Catherine stood in the shadow of the doorway, crying. The horse Juliana was to ride was lead up, but before she could mount, Catherine ran up and embraced her.

"Oh, Juliana, I shall miss you," she sobbed.

"I know," Juliana murmured absentmindedly. Sir Reinald took Catherine's arm and lead her firmly away from Julianna. The traitoress set foot in the stirrup and grasped the saddle horn with her bound hands. As she struggled to mount, Sir Reinald put a hand beneath her elbow to assist her. Once she had her seat, he moved to the head of the column and bowed.

"Your highnesses, I now transfer to you custody of the traitoress Juliana. Aslan be with you in your journey."

"Thank you, Sir Reinald," the princess answered, inclining her head.

"Men of Archenland, let us depart," Ayden raised his voice, and the column began to move forward out of the courtyard. The mounted soldiers surrounded Juliana, while the knights rode ahead of her abreast. Ayden and the herald lead the column, while Galen and Lyra rode between him and the knights. As the horses wound their way through the streets of the village at Anvard's feet, the column halted in the village square. The herald rode to the front of the column and brought a horn to his lips. The sound reverberated, bright and clear, through the village and echoed on the stonework of the castle behind them.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" Parry spoke in a raised voice, "By order of the king, the Lady Juliana is hereby banished from the realm of Archenland as traitoress to the crown! Look ye upon her and know that should she ever return her life is forfeit to the crown." The herald rode up and posted one of his notices on one of the walls of the village hall. Turning his horse around to face the gathered crowd, he raised an arm and shouted, "Long live the King!"

"Long live the King!" The assembled villagers returned, joined by the soldiers, knights, prince, and princess.

Just as the cry faded, one of the villagers pointed towards Galen and exclaimed, "Three cheers for the knight of the Stone Knife! Long may It shine!"

The other villagers picked up the cheer, "Hooray for the Stone Knife!"

Ayden cued his horse to a brisk trot and the herald fell in line beside him. The eyes of the villagers (those who paid attention to her) rested coldly on Juliana as she passed, but she kept her eyes fixed ahead and her spine straight. Last of all, after the soldiers, came Juliana's parents and the little pack horse. Most of the village, however, ran along beside the column with cheers, applauding the Stone Knife and its guardian. Galen, for his part, felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

The group continued to ride throughout the day through the cool green forests of central Archenland. For a while, they descended from the high land where Anvard stood, but soon the mountains melted into a tall horizon, blindly white from the snow at their peaks. After a while, the guard relaxed their stern faces and began to chat amongst themselves. Galen turned his thoughts to the delicious green coolness of the forest around him, talking on occasion with Aiolos, Lyra, and the knights behind him.

They halted for lunch beside a bubbling stream. The guards did their jobs well and kept closely around Juliana as the knights and monarchs conversed happily.

"So, tell me, Glynan, what is Ramstowne like?" Galen began, "I have heard any number of you mention it, but I've never had a good description."

"Oh, Ramstowne is a fun little town by the sea," Glynan began. "Glyn and I are from near there, you know. And the sea is the most beautiful shade of blue."

"And there are mermaids in it, we know," Torban interrupted with a laugh. The whole group laughed heartily and Glynan blushed.

"Oh, fine. Have your laugh. One day you'll see some fantastic thing and see if I believe you!" Glynan said, pouting a trifle, though as good natured as ever.

"Ramstowne," Ayden interjected, "is Archenland's primary seaport and largest city. "fun little town," indeed!"

"Aye, the bulk of the Archen fleet normally sits at anchor there," Glyn added, "and any number of merchant ships come in each day."

"The city is named for King Ram the Great,*** one of Archenland's greatest kings. He lived near the time of Narnia's Golden Age, now that I think of it," Lyra remarked.

"I see," the Narnian replied with a smile.

"Well, I suppose that we had better keep moving, or we'll not make Aradale by nightfall," Ayden stood, brushed his hands off and went to check the horses.

The rest of the knights stood as well and began to ready for departure. Lyra stalked across the grass to where Juliana sat amongst her guard.

"I trust you enjoyed your meal, my lady," Lyra smiled, but her eyes carried a deadly glimmer.

"Is that sarcasm I hear, princess?" Juliana returned icily, her green eyes carrying a growing spark of hatred.

"Most astute, my dear lady," Lyra returned with a smirk and a flourish.

"May I be of service, your highness?" The highest ranking soldier stood.

"Yes, sergeant, thank you. Prepare to move out," she instructed.

* * *

By the time the sun began to cast its rays from behind the Western Mountains, the party was galloping through the downy hills of eastern Archenland. As they had the traveled, Herald Parry had posted his notices in every village. Half of them already fluttered at the tavern-walls of a half-dozen Archen towns. As they paused at the crest of a hill, Galen could see a little village spread out in the valley before them. Soon they pulled the weary horses to a stop at the town hall.

"Sir Torban," Ayden began as he dismounted, "would you mind holding the horses a moment? We shall be back quickly." Lyra dismounted and followed him. The two, along with the herald, entered the town hall and ascended the steps at the end of the room. An office door greeted them, and Ayden rapped quickly on it.

"Who is it?" A tired mumble came from within.

"The crown prince of Archenland and his noble companions!" Herald Parry replied resoundingly. "Pray tire them no further with your tarrying!"

The three friends could not help but chuckle at the zealous herald, whose proclamation was most effective. A startled splutter was heard from within, and the town's mayor hurriedly pulled the door open.

"Your royal highness! Highness_es_, I should say!" He amended, catching sight of Lyra. "Please come in, and welcome to Aradale!"

"Oh, do calm down good mayor," Lyra smiled. "All is well, the kingdom is safe, and we are not here escorting members of the Elections Investigatory Committee.****"

"My apologies, your highnesses, how can I be of service?" The mayor smiled.

"We are here to escort a particular prisoner to the coast, and require the use of your town jail for the night."

"Oh, of course, your highnesses. Please come with me."

The mayor lead them down the stairs and across the street to the sheriff's***** office. As they entered, they saw an older (though capable) gentleman reclining in a chair behind a desk, his hat over his face and his boots resting on the desk.

"Ahem!" The mayor cleared his throat loudly and slammed the door.

"What! What's wrong!?" The sheriff jumped up.

"Sheriff Travis," the mayor began, "let me introduce you to Prince Ayden and Princess Lyra."

The sheriff bowed. "A pleasure, your highnesses. How may I be of service?"

"We would ask that you keep a particular prisoner in your facilities for the night, of your courtesy," Ayden answered.

"Certainly! Please, make yourselves at home, my lord and lady. Anything you require is at your disposal," the sheriff answered warmly.

"Thank you, good sir," Lyra replied. She stepped outside momentarily.

"Sir Torban! Please bring the prisoner in."

Torban came in promptly, leading Juliana by the arm. Four soldiers followed. The sheriff hurried to open one of the three cells that lined the opposite wall. Torban guided her firmly inside, then pulled a knife from his belt and cut the bonds around her wrists before closing the door and making sure it was locked. The cell was spartanly appointed, but warm and clean. Torban indicated for the soldiers to take up positions at either side of the cell.

"Thank you, Sheriff. I'll stay with the prisoner, my lady," Torban turned to Lyra. "Please go and enjoy your dinner."

"Thank you, Torban," Ayden answered, and Lyra smiled gratefully.

The prince, princess, herald, and mayor rejoined the traveling party.

"Glyn," Ayden began, "if you will, lead everyone over to _The_ _Old Mill. _The horses will need stabling, and I know old Sam will take care of them well. Glyn nodded and wheeled his horse around, and the remaining soldiers, horses, and Juliana's parents followed. Galen had already dismounted and stood beside Ayden and Lyra.

"My lord, if I may," Sheriff Travis, who had followed them outside, spoke.

"Of course," the Archen prince answered.

"What has the young lady yonder done to run afoul of the Crown?"

"She is the traitoress Juliana, convicted in fair trial before the High Court the day before yesterday."

"That is she of whom everyone has spoken? I had no idea she was so young! You may be assured, though, my lord and lady, that she will not escape my jail."

"Thank you, good sheriff," Lyra answered, and the sheriff turned and reentered his office.

"If there is anything else I can do," the mayor spoke, about to return to his office, when he paused, looking at Galen. "Pardon me, sir knight, but you seem to wear the colors I have heard are—" he paused a moment, as though he was too frightened to speak it aloud, "are the colors of the Knight of the Stone Knife. Are you he?"

"I am," Galen replied, puzzled. To the Narnian's dismay, the mayor sunk to one knee on the ground before him.

"Please, my lord," he spoke timidly, "I would humbly ask you to bestow upon the good people of this town the blessing of the Stone Knife."

The Narnian was stunned and felt as though he had been struck. After a moment, he recovered from his surprise and knelt beside the mayor. Galen put a hand beneath the Archenlander's arm and stood, raising the mayor with him.

"Only Aslan has the power to bless or to curse — not I, and not the Stone Knife. Do not kneel to me, I beg of you," the Narnian spoke softly, the last sentence uttered with such a sad earnestness that one might have thought the mayor had informed the knight that his best friend had disowned him, instead of requesting of him an honor. "Aslan be with you, friend," Galen turned and quickly walked back up the road.

Lyra and Ayden joined him a moment later and the three walked in silence to an inn with a brightly painted sign that read _The Old Mill._ Warm light spilled from the doorway, and laughter could be heard from inside. A stable boy was just rounding the corner of the building. He swept a quick bow.

"I'll have your horses stabled and fed in a trice, your highnesses!" He spoke cheerfully, and they thanked him.

The three entered the inn, and Galen could see a middle-aged man in an off-white shirt and apron hurrying around the room with serving platters. Ayden walked up and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Well, my dear Sam, how are they treating you?"

Startled, the innkeeper turned around sharply. "Oh, Prince Ayden, how good to see you!" The relieved man shook Ayden's hand fervently. "Your friends are over there, my lord. I have made sure your horses have been seen to, and the best rooms are being made up for you and your party as we speak."

"Thank you ever so much!" Ayden answered. "I knew we could depend on you."

"I think you work too hard, though, my dear innkeeper," Lyra chided, smiling.

"Aye, m'lady, don't we all," Sam hoisted the platter up again and continued on.

The three friends found Glyn, Glynan, and the rest of the soldiers and joined their merry gathering. The innkeeper brought them plates of food in short order.

Though the food was good, Galen did not eat very much. The Narnian tended instead to stare out the window in thought, and after a little while he excused himself and, after obtaining directions from Ayden, walked upstairs to the room he was to share with the Archen prince. The room was rustic, but charming, with a large glass window, white curtains, and two immaculately made beds. A vase of cheerful daisies stood on the night table next to a glass oil lamp, and a rocking chair with soft calico cushions sat in the corner.

Galen had intended to go right to sleep, but after he removed his blue tabard and laid it on the bed next to his cloak he found he was too troubled to sleep. Instead, the Narnian found himself leaning against the window sill and staring at the nearly full moon as it washed the land and the window sill in milky radiance. The cool night wind tossed his hair and rustled the soft sleeves of his creamy white shirt, bringing with it the fresh smell of spring. The incident with the mayor and with the Anvard villagers earlier in the day plagued him, and he turned it over unceasingly in his mind. He did not know how much time had passed when he heard a soft knock at the door.

"Come in!" Galen answered quietly and without turning away from the window. The door opened and closed softly, a light step creaking the floorboards.

"Are you alright, my friend?" Lyra's voice sounded quietly, barely above a whisper. "I was worried."

The young knight drew a shuddering breath and rested his head in his hand.

"Galen, what is wrong?" she asked, concern in her voice as she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, Lyra, what have I done?" he answered in such a sad, despairing voice that the Archen princess thought it would break her heart. "They cheer to me, _kneel_ to me, beg a blessing of me— of It," Galen looked at Lyra with tears in his blue eyes. Forcefully blinking away the tears, he looked out again towards the Archen countryside and spoke with a voice full of misery. "Aslan forgive me for what I have let His gift become."

The Narnian's head drooped again. The Archen princess's heart went out to him and she took the hand that rested on the window sill in her own.

"Galen, you have been the most constant and loyal guardian of the Stone Knife. It is the folly of the ill-informed that have twisted it into this travesty," Lyra looked steadily at the young knight. "Look at me and answer me this: have you held the Stone Knife over anyone, taken advantage of the power that would be given you? Have you demanded servitude, demanded tribute, demanded bent knees and bared heads? Have you demanded for yourself anything, even of the tiniest measure?" Galen returned her gaze as she spoke, his eyes still burdened with sadness. "My friend," she spoke earnestly, "we both well know that you have not. Whatever strange malady of mind has stricken these Archen citizens is not of your making, nor have you taken advantage of it. You have no need of forgiveness."

The young knight was quiet for a moment and bowed his head, but took a deep breath and seemed to relax a trifle. Lyra leaned on the window next to him and looked out over the countryside. Their hands remained clasped, though they did not realize it.

"Thank you," Galen spoke quietly after a moment, his voice still thick with the strong sentiments that had gripped him. Lyra looked at him and smiled.

"This," he continued gravely, "this Knife-worship cannot be allowed to continue, even after we have left for the East," his voice softened to a near whisper. "I fear, though, that I have not the strength to turn this tide."

The Archen princess paused a moment in thought, then chuckled. "I may, if you are willing, have an idea."

* * *

Author's note: Thank you so much for reading, and for tolerating my excess of author's notes. I would love your opinions!

_*The Voyage of the Dawn Treader,_ chapter 13.

** A brig is a two masted, square rigged warship of the 18th and 19th centuries. They tended to be smaller reconnaissance vessels built for speed and suitable for long sea voyages. Information obtained from the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic: .

*** Ram the Great was the son of Cor and Aravis; see _The Horse and His Boy._

_**** _Nothing is more frightening than bureaucracy. Just watch the IRS hearings. :D

***** I know I'm getting a little long-winded in terms of author's notes, but I did want to point out one last thing. I use the term sheriff in the sense of its origin in medieval England (i.e. Sheriff of Nottingham), not as a homage to the wild west (although if that floats your boat, by all means think of it in that way. I don't mind).


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